
A QUESTIONABLE CLIENT
Copyright © 2011 by Ilona Andrews, Inc
This work of fiction was previously published in Dark and Stormy Knights anthology
ONE FOR THE MONEY
Copyright © 2011 by Jeaniene Frost
This work of fiction was previously published in Death's Excellent Vacation anthology
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Jeaniene Frost
ONCE BURNED: Sneak Peek of Book 1 in Night Prince Series
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS: Sneak Peak of Bite Before Christmas anthology
Ilona Andrews
FATE'S EDGE: Sneak Peek of Book 3 in Edge series
MAGIC GRIEVES: Sneak Peek of a novella in Kate Daniels Series
ONE FOR THE MONEYJeaniene FrostChapter One
I squinted in the morning sunlight. At this hour, I should have been in bed, but thanks to my uncle Don, I was traipsing across the NCSU campus instead. I strode up to Harrelson Hall, then climbed to the third floor to the class I was looking for. When I walked in, most of the students ignored me, either chatting with each other or rifling through their bags as they waited for class to start. The room had stadium-style seating, with the entrance down by the professor's podium. My lower vantage point gave me the same sweeping view of the students the professor would have. I scanned every face, seeking the one that matched the jpeg I'd been sent. No, no, no...ah. There you are.
A pretty blonde stared back at me with barely concealed suspicion. I smiled in a friendly way and threaded up the aisle toward her. My smile didn't soothe her; she flicked her gaze around the room as if debating whether to make a run for it.
Tammy Winslow, I thought coolly. You should be scared, because you're worth a lot of money dead.
The air felt charged with invisible current moments before a ghost burst into the room. Of course, I was the only one who could see him.
"Trouble," the ghost said.
Sounds of heavy footsteps came down the hall while the air thickened with greater supernatural energy.
So much for doing this the quiet way.
"Get Bones," I told the ghost. "Tell him to be ready at the window."
That turned a few heads, but I didn't care about my college student ruse anymore. I had to get those people out of here.
"I've got a bomb," I called out loudly. "If you don't want to die, get out now."
Several kids gasped. A few snickered, not sure if I was kidding, but no one ran for the door. The footsteps coming down the hall got closer.
"Get out now," I snarled, pulling my gun out of its hidden holster and waving it.
No one waited to see if I was kidding anymore. Scrambling ensued as the students ran for the door. I held onto my gun, shouting at everyone to stay away from me, relieved to see the room emptying. But when Tammy tried to dart away, I grabbed her.
A man barreled through the door, knocking the panicked deluge of students aside as if they were weightless. I shoved Tammy away and whipped out three of the silver knives that I had strapped to my legs under my skirt, waiting until no one was in front of him before flinging them at the charging figure.
He didn't try to dodge my blades and nothing happened when they landed in his chest. A ghoul, great. Silver through the heart did nothing to ghouls; I'd have to take his head off to kill him. Where was a big sword when I needed one?
I didn't bother with more knives, but launched myself at the ghoul, bear-hugging him. He pounded at my sides, smashing my ribs as he tried to shake me off. Pain flared in me, but I didn't let go. If I were human, the punishment from his fists would have killed me, but I was a full vampire now, so my broken bones healed almost instantly.
I managed to put the gun's muzzle to the ghoul's temple and pulled the trigger.
Screams erupted from the few kids still left in the room. I ignored them and kept pumping bullets into the ghoul's head. The bullets wouldn't kill him, but they did a lot of damage. His head was in oozing pieces when I let go.
Tammy tried to run past me, but I was faster, knocking over desks in my way as I grabbed her. Scraping sounds let me know the ghoul was crawling toward us, his head healing with every second. I hopped over the desks, yanking Tammy along with me, and pulled out my largest knife from under my sleeve. With a hard swipe, I skewered the ghoul's neck.
The ghost appeared in the window, followed by another surge of energy coming from the same direction. Time to go.
Tammy screamed as she fought me, trying to break my hold on her. "I'm not going to hurt you," I said. "Fabian." I glanced at the ghost. "Hold on."
He wrapped his spectral hands around my shoulders. Tammy wasn't as trusting. She kept screaming and kicking.
I ignored that and ran right at the window. Tammy shrieked as we smashed through it with a hail of glass. Since her classroom had been on the third floor, we didn't have a long hang time before something collided with us, propelling us straight upward. Tammy's screams rose to a terrified crescendo as we rocketed up at an incredible speed.
"Somebody help me!" she shrieked.
The vampire who'd caught us adjusted his grip, flying me, Tammy, and the hitchhiking ghost toward our destination at the far edge of campus.
"Somebody has," he replied, English accent discernible even above Tammy's screams.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
The Hummer was equipped with bulletproof windows, a reinforced frame, and a backseat that couldn't be opened from the inside. Tammy found that out when she tried to escape as soon as we'd thrown her in and sped off. Then she'd shrieked for another ten minutes, ignoring my repeated statements that we weren't going to hurt her. Finally, she calmed down enough to ask questions.
"You shot that guy in the head." Her eyes were wide. "But that didn't kill him. How is that possible?"
I could lie. Or, I could use the power in my gaze to make her believe she hadn't seen anything unusual, but it was her life on the line, so she deserved the truth.
"He wasn't human."
Even after what she'd seen, her first reaction was denial. "What kind of bullshit is that? Did my cousin send you?"
"If he'd sent us, you'd be dead now," Bones said, not taking his attention off the road. "We're your protection."
I knew the exact moment Tammy got a good look at the vampire who'd snatched us out of thin air, because she stared. Her scent changed, too. That former reek of terror became a more perfumed fragrance as she checked out his high cheekbones, dark hair, ripped physique, and sinfully gorgeous profile.
Young, old, alive, undead, doesn't matter , I thought ruefully. When Bones is around, women go into heat.
But Tammy had just been through a very traumatic experience, so I ignored the vampire territorialism that made me want to grab Bones and snap, "Mine!" Instead, I handed her a pack of wet wipes.
She looked at them with an incredulous expression. "What do you expect me to do with these?"
"Noting works better to wipe off blood, believe me," I said, showing her my newly-cleaned arms.
Tammy looked at them, at me, and at Bones. "What is going on?"
"She already told you," Bones said, pulling over on the side of the road and putting the vehicle in park. "But you need more proof before you believe us, right?" He held up his hand. "Watch."
Bones dragged a knife across his hand, cutting open a line of flesh. Tammy stared as it closed moments later as if it had an invisible zipper. Fabian didn't even blink. The ghost was used to the healing abilities of the undead.
"I'm a vampire, that's why I can do this. Name's Bones, by the way."
"And I'm Cat," I added. "I'd introduce you to Fabian, but you can't see him anyway. We're your guardians until my uncle tracks down your cousin and arrests him."
Tammy's face was almost comical in its incredulity. "But it's daylight," she said at last. "Vampires can't go out in the sun, everyone knows that!"
Bones chuckled. "Right. And we shrink back from crosses, can't travel over water, can't enter a home unless invited, and always get staked in the end by the righteous slayer. Really, who'd be afraid of a creature like that? All you'd need is a Bible, a tanning bed, and some holy water to send us shivering to our dooms."
Tammy shook her head slowly. I watched with sympathy. Denial was how I'd reacted at sixteen when I found out my absentee father had been a vampire, and that it wasn't puberty causing my strangeness, but the growth of my inhuman traits.
"I know it's hard to believe since vampires and ghouls look human most of the time," I tried again, "but -"
"Let me get this straight," Tammy interrupted. "I asked some of my father's old government friends for help when "accidents" kept happening to me, and someone sent a vampire to protect me?"
Fabian began to laugh. I gave the ghost a censuring look that silenced his chuckles, but even though he was partially transparent, it was clear his lips were still twitching.
"Actually, two vampires," I corrected. "The ghost was a bonus."
"I'm a dead woman," Tammy muttered.
Bones snorted. "Told you this job wouldn't be easy, luv."
He was right, but I owed Don a favor. Even if I hadn't, I would still be here. Last month, Tammy had almost been killed by a "freak" electrical surge. Two weeks ago, a drive-by shooting nearly took her life. Could've been unfortunate coincidences, except the fact that if Tammy died before her twenty-first birthday, all her father's millions would go to her cousin, Gables. Tammy's late father had been an old friend of my uncle's, and Don didn't believe in coincidences. Then Don did some digging and heard that the next attempt on Tammy would involve an 'exotic' kind of hitman that never failed.
Don knew what that meant. He ran a special Homeland Security division that dealt with the supernatural - not that taxpayers knew part of their money went toward policing things that supposedly didn't exist. I was retired from the unit, but that made it even better for my uncle. Don didn't need to use an active team member to look after his old friend's daughter. No, he could call me, knowing I wouldn't turn away a girl who had her head on a preternatural chopping block.
Tammy seemed to have gotten over her initial shock. She tossed her blonde hair. "I offered to pay for protection and if you're the one protecting me, that means you work for me. So I'm going to lay some ground rules, got it?"
My brows rose. Fabian whistled, but of course, Tammy couldn't hear the ghost. You better hurry up and arrest her cousin, Don, I thought.
Bones gave me a knowing look. "Told you not to answer your mobile whilst we were on vacation, Kitten."
I sighed. Tammy began ordering us to take her back to her house. Bones ignored her, pulling onto the road and continuing in the opposite direction of where she lived.
"It's only for a few days," I said.
Or so I hoped, anyway.
Most people who'd had three brushes with death - one involving a ghoul - would be scared into a very cooperative state. Tammy appeared to be channeling her inner Paris Hilton instead. Evidently she'd never heard the word no before. She was outraged that we didn't let her go back to her house to pack, and then she was really upset once she saw the town we were hiding out in.
"You've got to be kidding." Tammy gave a disparaging glance at the rustic countryside and overgrown cherry orchard bordering the property where I'd grown up.
"It's in the middle of nowhere," Tammy went on. "You probably have psychotic inbreds living in the woods!"
She's suffered a traumatic experience , I reminded myself again, gritting my teeth. Cut her some slack.
Licking Falls was in the middle of rural nowhere, but that was the point. It might not look appealing to a young heiress, but for safety, it was ideal. No one would think to look for Tammy here.
We'd rounded the last turn and were heading down the long gravel road that led to my old house when Bones abruptly stopped.
"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling his tenseness like invisible ants marching across my skin.
"Your house isn't empty," he stated low. "And the occupant isn't human."
"Let's get out of here," Tammy said, her voice rising. "Now!"
I had my hand over her mouth even as Bones slid soundlessly out of the car. All we needed was for Tammy to start screaming to really alert whoever the undead intruder was. How the hell had someone beaten us here? We'd told no one we were coming! Instinct made me want to follow Bones, but that would leave Tammy unprotected. I glared at Tammy and ordered her in a low tone to be silent. The power from my gaze rendered Tammy mute at once. Then I let go of her mouth and pulled out a few weapons, all my senses directed toward the house half a mile up the road.
Relief rolled across my subconscious moments later, causing me to lessen my grip on my knives. Bones must have killed the intruder. Being connected to Bones this way was like hitchhiking on his emotions. In situations like this, it also came in handy.
I began to drive up the road again, ignoring Tammy's frantic pokes on my shoulders. I'd compelled her to be quiet, but not to be still, more's the pity.
When I was halfway up the road, Bones appeared, a bemused expression on his face.
"Your mum's here," he said.
I'd slowed on seeing him, but at that, I slammed on the brakes. "She is?"
Bones nodded and got into the passenger sear. "In the undead flesh."
"Catherine?" I heard my mother say, sounding as surprised as I felt. Of course. Even a hundred yards away, with her new hearing, she'd pick up my conversation with Bones as easily as if she'd been in the car.
A lump made its way into my throat. "Yeah, Mom. It's me."
I hadn't seen my mother in months. Not since the night I killed the man who kidnapped and forcibly changed her into a vampire. He'd done it just to hurt me, the bastard. It was a shame I couldn't kill him twice.
My mother was framed in the front door, watching me as I pulled up. The highlights had grown out of her hair and her skin was already paler than it had been the last time I'd seen her. Feeling the aura of supernatural energy coming from her was something I didn't think I'd ever get used to.
"Hi," I said as I got out. I wanted to hug her, but I was afraid she might push me away. My mother had always loathed vampires. Now she was stuck as one, and it was all because of me. To say that strained our relationship was putting it mildly.
Her hands fluttered, like she wasn't sure what to do with them. "Catherine." A small smile creased her face. "What are you doing here?"
"We were going to use the house to hide out, but since you're here -"
"Someone's after you again?" she cut me off, green tingeing her blue gaze.
"Not me," I hastened to assure her. "Tammy, the girl in the backseat. Bones and I are, uh, guarding her for a few days until Don squares things away."
"Hallo, Justina," Bones said, getting out of the car. "Certainly didn't expect to see you here."
"I wanted somewhere quiet to go for a vacation," she muttered.
He let out a sardonic laugh. "Seems we're not the only ones to have our vacation interrupted, then."
Bones took it for granted that we'd still be staying here. We'd decided this place was perfect to hide Tammy and I'm the one who owned it, so to him it was settled. But after all my mother had been through, I didn't want to subject her to my current predicament.
"We'll go somewhere else," I said with an apologetic shrug.
"Is something wrong with the girl?" my mother asked, pointing.
I glanced at the backseat. Tammy was smacking at the door while her eyes bugged and her mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"Oh shit, I forgot about muting her!"
I let Tammy out and returned her voice with a flash of my gaze. The first thing she did was howl loud enough to make me wince.
"Don't ever do that to me again!"
"Then don't give away our position if we think there's danger, and we won't have a reason to," Bones replied with an arched brow.
"Mom, this is Tammy," I said, waving the blonde forward.
My mother smiled with less tension. "Hello, Tammy. Nice to meet you."
Tammy grabbed my mother's arms. "Finally, someone normal! Do you know what it's like with these two? They're worse than prison guards! They wouldn't even stop to let me eat!"
Bones snorted. "We were a bit busy keeping you alive, if you recall."
My mother glanced at Tammy and then back at me. "Poor girl, you must be starving. I'll make you something for dinner. You don't want Catherine to cook, believe me."
Under normal circumstances, I might have bristled at the implication. But that statement, plus the look she'd given me, said we would be staying here after all. Safety concerns for Tammy aside, I was happy. I'd missed my mother. Maybe our mutually interrupted vacations were a blessing in disguise for our relationship.
"After you, Mom."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
My warm and fuzzy feeling evaporated after dinner, however. The house only had two bedrooms. My mother kindly offered to share hers with Tammy, but just as I was about to thank her for it, Tammy spoke.
"Shouldn't I sleep with him instead?" Tammy's gaze swept over Bones with unmistakable lust. "After all, since I'm the one paying, I should choose who I bunk with."
My mother gasped. I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but Bones laughed. "I'm a married man, but even if I weren't, you wouldn't stand a chance. Rotten manners you have."
"Your loss," Tammy said, with another toss of her hair. Then she looked around in frustration. "You can't expect me to stay here more than a couple days. I'll go crazy."
"But you'll be alive," I pointed out, which should have been her top priority, in my opinion.
"You killed that thing, didn't you?" Tammy asked. "Doesn't that mean the danger's over?"
Bones shrugged. "I doubt the ghoul was the person contracted to kill you. Sounds like outsourced, cheap local talent to me."
Tammy gaped at him. "She had to cut his head off before he stayed down. That's what you consider cheap local talent?"
"No self-respecting undead hitman would take a contract on a human," Bones said dismissively. "Humans are too easy. Like getting paid to stomp on a goldfish. But in your case, probably a human hitman who knows about the undead got frustrated that his last two attempts didn't work, and gave some quid to a young ghoul to finish you. It's a practical solution; the ghoul gets money and a meal, the hitter still keeps the bulk of the contract payment, and the client's happy that you're dead."
"You would know, wouldn't you?" my mother muttered.
"How's that?" Tammy asked.
Bones smiled at her, beautiful and cold at the same time. "Because I was a hitman for over two hundred years."
Tammy gulped. I didn't add what I knew; that Bones had been very particular about his contracts. He killed other killers, not innocent people, and most of those people were his own kind. That hadn't won Bones any popularity contests in undead circles, but if Bones thought someone deserved to die, he took the contract, no matter the danger.
"In a few days, Don should have your greedy toad of a cousin arrested and then it will be safe for you to go home," Bones went on.
"If you're a hitman, why can't I just pay you to kill Gables?" she asked, recovering. "My birthday isn't for another two months. Who knows if my cousin might try to kill me again, even if he is in jail?"
My eyes widened at how causally Tammy broached the subject. Pass the salt. Kill my cousin.
Bones shrugged. "He might, but you'll have to look elsewhere for a hitter. I'm too busy for that now."
Tammy glanced at my mother, me, and then Bones before her face tightened up. "This sucks," she said, and ran up the stairs.
Considering I could have been spending the next two weeks on vacation with my husband instead of looking after a spoiled rich girl who was being targeted by killers, I agreed.
"It'll be all right, Tammy," I called out.
An expletive was her response. Bones arched a brow and tapped the side of his eye.
"Say the word, luv. I'll glare a whole new attitude into her."
Vampire mind control would be the easy way out, but when did I ever take the easy way?
"She'll come around," I muttered. Hurry up, Don.
"I'll go talk to her," my mother said.
Both my brows went up. "You think you can make her see reason?"
My mother gave me a jaded look as she ascended the stairs. "You forget, Catherine - I've had a lot of experience dealing with a difficult child."
Bones laughed, with a knowing glance at me that made my mouth twitch despite myself. Okay. My mother had a point.
I'd been in life and death situations since I was a sixteen, but those could be handled with some bravery - or recklessness, depending on who you asked - and my knives. A cranky, demanding heiress required a different set of skills. Ones I didn't seem to have.
Day two during a conversation with Tammy: "So you're married to Bones, huh? How'd you manage to snag him? You know, with your red hair and white skin, you look like a big candy cane."
Day three: "Boy, is Bones hot. If I were you, I'd be on him five times a day. If you two break up, send him my way, huh?"
Day four: "Let me out of this room! I'll call the police, the FBI. Let me out!"
By day five, when Don still hadn't located Gables, Bones and I were ready to take matters in our own hands. If my uncle, with all the resources of the military and the government behind him, couldn't find Gables, then he wasn't going to be found any time soon. Putting our lives on hold for a few days was one thing, but Bones was Master of a large vampire line. We couldn't hide with Tammy for much longer. Soon we'd have to get back to our usual routine; dealing with the intricacies and dangers of life in undead society.
Not to mention, staying in a tiny house with my mother had ground my sex life to a halt. These walls were paper thin anyway, and with my mother being a vampire, anything we did would be as clear to her as if she were in the same room. The idea of her overhearing every last detail of me getting it on with Bones wasn't romantic, to say the least. Yeah, it was past time to be proactive about finding Gables.
We drove down a barely used road that dead ended at a large, industrial warehouse. Judging from its exterior, you'd never guess this was a night club filled with creatures the average person didn't believe existed. It was called Bite. Bones had taken me here on our first date, but we weren't taking a trip down memory lane. We were here for information.
Parking was around the back, surrounded by a thick line of trees that concealed the number of cars from anyone who happened to stumble across the lonely single road. For a secluded spot where immortals could let their hair down, Bite was perfect.
Of course, the heartbeats coming from many of the people waiting to get in proved that Bite didn't only cater to undead partiers. They're the menu, with legs, Bones had said of the humans the first time he brought me here. It was a willing arrangement. A skillfully executed vampire bite could feel better than foreplay. Plus, some humans hung around vampires hoping to be promoted to the next level in the food chain. Even the undead had groupies.
My mother declined to come with us, stating that she didn't want to be around more vampires than necessary. Fabian stayed to keep her company, which seemed to make her happy. How far she'd come. I remembered when my mother would have run screaming away from a ghost, not looked forward to spending an evening with one.
So it was just Bones, Tammy and I who walked past the people in line. Humans and new vampires might have to wait their turn, but a Master vampire - and anyone with him - could go straight to the door. As we approached, I felt Bones draw in his aura of power, suppressing it to a level far below the mega-Master that he was. It was a trick Bones had gotten better at during the past several months. Immediately, the connection I had with him was barely discernible. The last time he'd closed himself off like this, it was right before he'd almost died. Feeling that blank wall when I was used to tapping into his mood brought back bad memories.
"I hate it when you do that," I whispered.
He squeezed my hand. "Sorry, luv. I don't want to announce myself to anyone who doesn't already know me."
I understood. Muting his power level was a better disguise for Bones than dying his hair or other changes to his appearance.
The entrance was guarded by a brawny, blond vampire who had to be six feet tall. She barely looked at Tammy, smiled when she saw Bones, and then laughed when her gaze flicked to me.
"I knew it. Wait until I see Logan. I told him Bones brought the Red Reaper with him years ago, but Logan didn't believe me."
I'd recognized the bouncer from that night, but I was surprised she remembered me.
"Trixie, luv, been a long time," Bones said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She returned it before shaking my hand.
"Reaper. A pleasure."
"Call me Cat." The Red Reaper might be my nickname among the undead, but I preferred to be called by the abbreviation of my real name.
Tammy gave Trixie a frank stare. "Is she dead, too?"
Trixie grinned, showing off the gold plating on her fangs. "Does that answer your question?"
"Ew," Tammy said.
I rolled my eyes and mouthed "sorry" to Trixie, but she didn't seem to care about Tammy's comment.
"No fireworks inside," Trixie said, giving my hand a last, friendly squeeze.
I glanced at my hands and suppressed a shudder. One of my new tricks as a vampire was that when I got really pissed, flames shot from my hands. Guess word of that had spread. It shouldn't surprise me. Nobody loved gossip as much as people who'd had centuries of experience spreading it.
"We're not here for trouble," Bones said.
Trixie laughed. "That'll be the day when you don't leave trouble in your wake, Bones. Just keep it away from here."
"She knows you pretty well, huh?" I asked once we came inside.
Bones's mouth quirked. "Not as well as you're implying, Kitten."
It was a valid guess. Bones looked like temptation incarnate, and he'd been around the block for hundreds of years before he met me. If I assumed he slept with every female vampire he introduced me to, I'd be right more than I was wrong.
I pushed that thought away with all the other things I didn't like to dwell on. "Come on. I can smell the gin and tonic up ahead."
It was true. I smelled the different alcohols as the bartenders poured them, the myriad of other people's scents mixed with different perfumes, after shaves, and the tang of blood. Add that to the pulsating music, muted strobe lights, crush of people, and the energy wafting from everyone without a heartbeat, and I felt almost drunk from sensory overload.
"You couldn't feel it the last time, but you can now, can't you?" Bones whispered. "How thin the line is here between the normal and the paranormal. I told you Ohio was a supernatural hotspot. This club was built on an even bigger one. Feels like a charge in your blood, doesn't it?"
It did. No wonder the undead flocked to hotspots. Alcohol and drugs couldn't affect me anymore, but surrounded by all the inhuman occupants, where magic seemed to throb just below the surface, was sensual and exhilarating.
"Forget the drink. Let's dance."
My voice came out lower than I intended. Green appeared in the dark depths of Bones's eyes.
"Are you guys going to let me dance and have a little fun for once?" Tammy grumbled.
Bones swept out his hand. "By all means. Only don't leave the dance floor for any reason, or I'll lock you in your closet for a week."
Even if Tammy didn't know from experience that Bones never bluffed, his expression must have convinced her, because she gulped.
"Stay on the dance floor. Got it."
"Right, then. Off you go."
Bones was pressed to my back, his hips swaying against mine while his hands slid down my sides with a slow caress. Our recent celibacy combined with the brush of his lips on my neck, the coiled power pushing at his aura, plus all the mystic energy swirling around us, made me want to find the nearest corner and commit unspeakable acts on him.
But even the headiness of the atmosphere or the sensuality of dancing with Bones couldn't make me endanger Tammy - or have sex in public, like some people did at these clubs.
"After this is over with Tammy, we're coming back here," I murmured. "I bet you know where the private spots are in this place, and I intend to molest you in every one of them."
He laughed, sending tingles down my neck where his breath landed. "What a scandalous notion. I vow I'm blushing."
I doubted Bones had blushed since the Declaration of Independence was signed. 1776, Bones would have been ten, I thought hazily, shuddering as his fangs grazed my pulse in a tantalizing way. Close. At seventeen, he was prostituting himself to the women of the English ton in order to survive.
"Ready for that drink, luv?" Bones asked, turning me around to face him.
Yeah, I was ready for a drink, but not gin and tonic. I wanted to bury my fangs in Bones's throat and drain him until there was only enough blood left in him to keep him hard.
Hunger swelled in me at the thought. Changing from a half breed into a vampire had had unexpected side effects. I was only mostly dead, as my occasional heartbeat evidenced, and I drank vampire blood instead of human blood. Problem was, I absorbed more than nourishment from the blood I drank. I also absorbed power. Found that out after I fed from a pyrokinetic vampire and then my hands sprouted flames. I didn't want to absorb more freaky abilities by feeding from vampires with unusual powers, so I stuck with drinking from Bones. So far, that had only made me stronger, not stranger.
Of course, Bones always looked good enough to eat. Whoever said Don't play with your food sure hadn't been a vampire.
Bones inhaled, his eyes changing to emerald green. I knew mine would have changed also, and I felt my fangs push at my lips. Give us flesh, they urged. His flesh. Now.
"Stay here. Keep an eye on Tammy," Bones growled, surprising me by shouldering his way through the other dancers. Had he spotted a threat? I glanced around, looking for Tammy's familiar blond head amongst the mass of living and undead gyrators. There. Dancing with two men, no less.
I made my way through until I reached Tammy, getting between her and one of the dancers. His scowl turned into a smile as his gaze swept over me.
"Hello, redhead," he drawled.
"I'm just getting my friend," I said.
Tammy didn't budge. "Hell no. I'm just starting to have fun!"
"Tammy," I gritted out, "don't make me carry you." If there was danger, I wanted our backs to a wall with me in front of her. Not where trouble could come from any angle.
Tammy glared at me, but didn't object again. I led her to the closest corner, as if we were having an intimate conversation, but I was braced for action. No one looked as if they were stalking us. Still, appearances were deceiving.
I felt a stab of relief when I saw Bones striding toward us. A large ghoul with black bushy hair and a blindingly white smile followed him.
"Verses, this is my wife, Cat," Bones introduced me.
"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking his hand. I was surprised when Bones tugged me away a moment later.
"Follow me," he said, leading me past the D.J.'s booth and to a door behind it. It opened to reveal a staircase, and it was a good thing I could see in the dark, because there were no lights once Bones shut the door.
I expected to see a weapons cache, but we were in a room cluttered with old speakers, musical equipment, boxes, and tables. I was about to ask what we were supposed to do with this stuff when Bones yanked me to him. He kissed me, pushing me back against the table and reaching under my dress.
Clearly we weren't here to armor up against danger. "Bones," I managed, pushing him back. "Tammy -"
"Is fine with Verses," he cut me off. "Don't fret about her. Think about me."
He propped me up on the table as he spoke, pulling my underwear down past my knees. I gasped when he kissed me again, because he unleashed his aura at the same time. The waves of power suddenly flooding over me, combined with the rub of his desire on my subconscious, felt just as tangible as his tongue raking inside my mouth.
My objection vanished. Music boomed all around us, its throbbing beat mimicking the pulse I no longer had. I kissed him back, pulling him closer. A last tug on my underwear had them off, and Bones spread my legs, positioning himself to stand between them. I opened his shirt, tonguing his flesh from his neck to his chest, awash in the heightened sensations of supernatural energy, lust, and power that came from Bones and the club above us.
He squeezed my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples rigid even through my bra and dress. Hard, bare skin rubbed me below as he tugged down his pants. I arched against him, moaning into his mouth. Need throbbed within me. The table and walls vibrated from music pumping above us. To me, it seemed like everything was shuddering with passion.
"Now," I gasped.
He pushed deeply into me, the merging of our flesh sending waves of pleasure through my nerve endings. The invisible currents of his power seemed to sink into me with each new stroke.
I sank my fangs into his neck, feeling him shudder with a different kind of enjoyment. Blood filled my mouth, bringing a rush of ecstasy that his strong, smooth thrusts only heightened. I sucked harder, feeling his pace increase as the tension inside me built. I bit him again, crying out when his grasp tightened and he ground himself against me.
A flood of emotions seared my subconscious. I could feel Bones's control crumbling under the jagged slices of pleasure assaulting it. Felt the rapture shooting up his body when he abandoned that control and let lust have reign. Felt passion blasting through me as he yanked me even closer, thrusting with a sensual frenzy that would have hurt me if I was human, but only felt incredible now. Then I felt his fangs pierce my neck and my blood being pulled out. The music swallowed up our cries as we rocked together, faster and harder, drinking each other's blood, until both of us trembled from orgasm.
"That was really inappropriate," I said several minutes later while I straightened my clothes.
Bones laughed, low and sinful. "After being denied a week, I haven't begun to get inappropriate with you, Kitten, but I will."
"I'm serious." I might have an excuse, since decreased control over urges, food or otherwise, was a side effect of being a new vampire, but Bones had been dead a long time. "We're supposed to be guarding Tammy, not sneaking off for a quickie."
"Who knows how many more days we'll be holed up with your mum and Tammy? I wasn't wasting this opportunity. Besides, Verses is the owner of this club and he's a friend. Tammy's safe. He's probably twirling her around the dance floor as we speak."
That made me feel less guilty. We were supposed to be on vacation, after all, and the past week of sleeping together without anything else happening had been taking its toll on me, too.
I brought my attention back to business. "Time to mingle with the local lowlifes and see if anyone's heard about a hitter after a human?"
Bones grinned. "People do talk about all sorts of things when they're out having a bit of fun. Let's see if we can find out anything useful."
True to Bones's prediction, we found Tammy on the dance floor with Verses. The ghoul could dance like nobody's business, too. Tammy looked happier than I'd seen her all week.
"It can't be time to go yet," she said once she saw us.
"Not yet," Bones replied. "Verses, mate, point out one of your most gossipy regulars, but someone who can still be taken seriously."
With his height, it was easy for Verses to see over the other people. After a few seconds, he gestured at a bar manned by a beautiful vampire covered only in dark blue body glitter.
"See the gray-haired vampire sitting on the end? Name's Poppy. He tells too many stories to be trusted with a secret, but he doesn't make up what he hasn't heard."
"Smashing. I'd appreciate it if you kept your staff from mentioning that I was here tonight - or my wife. Trixie recognized us. Maybe a few more of them, too."
Verses gave Bones a look. "Bite is a haven for our kind. You're not intending to break my rules, are you?"
Bones clapped him on the back. "I won't do anything on your premises. After all, I intend to come back here with my wife. We still have some areas left to explore."
If it were possible, I'd have blushed at the blatant innuendo. Verses just laughed. Tammy looked bored.
"Why don't you do whatever it is you're going to do while I stay with Verses and dance?" Tammy suggested.
I was glad to change the subject. "Verses might have other things to do, Tammy."
"Keeping a pretty lady happy always takes priority," Verses said, winking at her.
Bones tugged my hand. "This shouldn't take too long, Kitten."
We left Tammy on the dance floor with the ghoul to head toward the glittering blue bartender and the gray-haired undead gossip.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
I sat a few seats away from Bones at the bar, dividing my attention between eavesdropping on him and keeping an eye on Tammy. So far, she seemed to be fine, and Verses had been right; the wrinkled vampire next to Bones didn't need much prodding to start chattering. Bones let him pick the topics for the first half hour or so, then he turned the conversation.
"Bloody economy's got us all buggered," Bones declared, draining his whisky in one gulp. "Take me. Three years ago, I'm living the posh life off my investments. Today, I'm guarding a human to scrape by. Like to stake myself and save the embarrassment, I would."
Poppy snickered. "What're you guarding a human against? Tax evasion?"
They both laughed, and then Bones lowered his voice conspiratorially. "No, mate, against her relative. In truth, I wonder if I shouldn't be on the other side of this coin."
Even across the bar, I could see the gleam of interest in Poppy's eyes. "What other side?"
Bones leaned in, lowering his voice even further until I could barely hear him. "The side that gets paid more if the whiny brat dies. Faith, if I knew how to contact the chit's smarmy cousin, I'd take that job instead of the one I've got. Then I'd get a meal out of it to boot."
Poppy chewed on his drink straw. "Can't ya find out from the girl where this relative is?"
"She doesn't know. Believe me, I asked with the brights on." Bones tapped under his eye for emphasis. "I can't take another month of this. I'll eat her and then get no bloody money from anyone."
Poppy glanced around. I looked away, pretending to study my drink. When I strained, I caught his reply.
"Had a fellow here last night. He's in the population reduction business, if you know what I mean, and he was laughin' about this job where hired meat tried to use a bone muncher to tidy things up on a contract that was runnin' long. You'll never guess what happened. Somehow, the bone muncher ends up dead. Dead! Then the mark disappears. The way I heard it, now the meat's worried about his contract gettin' cancelled."
Forty minutes later, this finally pays off , I thought.
"You hear the name of this meat?" Bones asked casually. "I might be interested in helping him out once I'm finished with this job."
"Think I heard the fellow call him Serpentine. Isn't that funny? The meat renamed himself just like he's a vampire."
Serpentine. I'd have Don burning up the computers on that alias as soon as we got home.
"Ah, mate, I owe you. Next round's on me."
Bones stayed another twenty minutes, letting Poppy ramble more until I fantasized about wrapping duct tape around the vampire's mouth. Finally, Bones feigned regret over needing to leave, but told Poppy he'd be back next weekend. And complained about how he'd have the bratty heiress with him.
My brows rose. What are you up to, Bones?
I pulled the clothes out of the dryer and stifled a curse. Bleach stains everywhere. Tammy was twenty; how could she not know how to do a load of laundry without ruining everything?
Still, at least Tammy was doing her own laundry now. Or trying to. That was the result of my mother's influence. Twenty years of spoiled rich bitch didn't stand a chance against forty-six years of farm-reared discipline. Even though I was much closer to Tammy's age and my mother made Tammy do things that caused the blonde to wail, to my surprise, my mother was the person Tammy seemed to have bonded with.
Perhaps that was my fault. Maybe I was so used to being in a search-and-destroy mode that I couldn't tackle being in a nurturing one instead. The thought was oddly depressing. Check my ovaries, doctor, because maybe I'm not really a woman.
After dinner - which my mother still insisted on cooking, not that I complained - we sat by the fireplace. It was time to fill Tammy in on what we'd found out.
"Tammy, here's what's going on: Don still hasn't found your cousin, but Bones found out that the original hitman who took your contract is dead."
Tammy bolted out of her chair. "That's great! Does it mean I can go home now?"
"Not so fast. The hitter died under unusual circumstances."
Tammy sat back down, her enthusiasm fading. "How?"
"His throat was ripped out," Bones said bluntly. "And his computer and other effects were rummaged through, so someone else might have taken an interest in his unfinished jobs."
Bones's connections from his bounty hunter days turned out to be faster than Don's computers, because he discovered Serpentine was dead before my uncle even found out his real name. Don did send a team over to examine the apartment where Serpentine - or James Daily, as the autopsy certificate read - was found. Even though the person was clever at covering their tracks, Don could tell someone had hacked into Serpentine's computer. Maybe it was a coincidence that some of the files that were accessed were about Tammy, or that Serpentine had been killed by a vampire. We knew Serpentine had undead connections since he sent a ghoul after Tammy. But maybe it was more than coincidence.
"I told you vampires normally don't bother with contracts on humans, but life never fails to surprise," Bones said in a dry tone. "When we were at Bite, I told the gossipy bloke I spoke with that we'd be back tomorrow night. If we still go, it would allow me to dig for more information, but there's a chance it could prove dangerous to you."
Tammy scoffed. "How dangerous? I've almost been electrocuted, shot, and eaten by a ghoul, remember?"
"If another vampire did decide to get involved with the contract on you, he or she could follow us back here and try to take you out," I said quietly.
Tammy gave us a shrewd look. "And then you could catch them. Find out where my cousin is, I'd bet. I saw you in action against that ghoul, Cat. How about you, Bones? You're a tough guy, right? Because I want this over. I want my life back."
Fabian floated in the room. "I could be the lookout. No other vampire or ghoul would notice me. I'd help keep Tammy safe."
Poor Fabian, he was right. Vampires and ghouls were notoriously disrespectful of ghosts. They ignored them more than most humans ignored homeless people.
"Thanks, Fabian," I said. "We could really use your help."
"It's so weird when you do that," Tammy muttered.
I hid a smile. Some part of me thought Tammy didn't believe Fabian existed and that we just pretended to speak with him to mess with her.
"I'll help protect her," my mother said. Her face was closed off, as if she were fighting back memories. Once again, I hated what had been done to her because of me.
Bones rose from his chair. "All right. If we're going to Bite tomorrow, it's time you learn to defend yourself, Tammy."
She gave him a startled look. "Isn't that what I'm paying you two for?"
I didn't correct Tammy by saying my uncle and his department were getting her money, not Bones or me. I hoped Don wasn't taking Tammy to the cleaners, but he was a government official.
"You should still know basic skills. After all, you're a pretty girl, and predators can have heartbeats, too."
Tammy brightened at the compliment. I hid a smile. Flattery would make her much more accommodating, as he would know.
Bones went into the kitchen and came out with a steak knife. He dangled it in front of Tammy, who looked at it doubtfully.
"What do you expect me to do with this?"
"Stab me with it," Bones replied. "In the heart."
Her mouth hung open. It was the first time I'd seen her speechless. "You're kidding?" she finally got out.
"You need to lean how to protect yourself against a vampire. Granted, your odds would be dismal, but your advantage is that no vampire would see you as a threat."
"That's how I managed to kill so many of them when I was your age," I chimed in. "The element of surprise can save your life."
Tammy looked at the knife again. "I don't know..."
Bones let out an exasperated noise. "Justina, come here and show her how it's done."
My mother looked more surprised than Tammy had when the whole conversation began. I was taken aback, too.
"You want me to stab you?" my mother asked in disbelief.
Bones gave her an impish grin. "Come on, Mum. How many times have you dreamed about that?"
My mother got up, took the knife, and then stuck it right in the middle of Bones's chest. He never flinched or moved to block her.
"See, Tammy, this is how most people would think to do it," Bones said calmly. "But Justina knows the blade isn't in deep enough, nor is it in the right place. The heart's a bit to the left, not exactly in the center. And she didn't twist the knife, which is what you must always, always do to kill a vampire, unless you've stabbed the heart with more than one knife."
Bones took the knife out and handed it back to my mother. "Now, Justina, show her how it's really done."
My mother looked even more startled, but she took the blade, aimed more carefully this time, and shoved it in with a small shudder.
"Twist," Bones said, as if this didn't hurt him, which it would, even if steel through the heart wasn't fatal. Only silver was.
My mother gave the blade a turn to the right. Bones caught her hand and jerked it, hard, in a ragged circle. Tammy gasped at the blood that stained his shirt.
"That's how you do it," he said, voice as neutral as if pain wasn't searing through him. I felt it, though, and it was all I could do not to yelp and demand he stop. "Rough, quick, and thorough, else you won't get a second chance."
He let go of my mother's hand and pulled out the knife, wiping it on his ruined shirt. "Let's show Tammy how it's done from the back now."
Tears pricked my eyes. Not because of the pain from Bones's wound; that was already healed. It was because I finally understood what he was doing. Bones wasn't trying to train Tammy. He was showing my mother how to defend herself, something she never would have allowed him to do under normal circumstances. But thinking it was for Tammy's benefit made her follow his instructions, learning how to jab a knife in the right place front and back, then how to deflect some standard defensive maneuvers.
Fabian caught my eye and winked. The ghost knew what Bones was doing, too.
By the time Bones announced it was Tammy's turn, I'd fallen in love with him all over again. Flowers and jewelry worked for most girls as a romantic gesture, but here I was, misty-eyed at watching him show my mother how to stab the shit out of him.
Tammy was human, so it took her longer to get the gist of things. Still, after an hour, she was sweaty, bloody, and very proud of herself for successfully stabbing Bones several times in the heart.
"Just call me Buffy," she said with a smirk.
"I'm tired," I said, faking a yawn. "I'm heading to bed."
Bones's eyes lit up. Fabian disappeared out the door, saying he wanted to double-check the grounds. My mother gave me a look. Only Tammy didn't seem to realize that no vampire ever yawned for real.
"See you tomorrow," Tammy said. "I've got to shower anyway."
I went up the stairs. Bones stayed below, waiting. By the time I heard Tammy's shower turn on, I also heard light, quick footsteps coming up the stairs.
When Bones entered the bedroom, I'd convinced myself that the noise from Tammy's shower would be sufficient to muffle my mother's hearing. Or that my mom had suddenly gone deaf. And when Bones took me in his arms, I stopped thinking about anything else.
This could be the beginning of a bad joke, I thought as we bypassed the line and strode into Bite. Three vampires and a human walk into a bar...
If a rogue undead hitman was after Tammy, we were hoping he took the bait and followed us home, because we had a hell of a surprise waiting for him. And here was also hoping that Poppy, the vampire Bones chatted up last weekend, had repeated Bones's tale about the snotty rich human he was guarding. And how he'd be back tonight with her.
My mother refused to dance. She sat at the bar, shutting down every man who approached her, human or otherwise. She really cared for Rodney, I thought, my heart squeezing at the memory of the murdered friend my mother had briefly dated. I hope she finds someone special again.
We went through the motions of having a good time, dancing, drinking - no alcohol for Tammy, even though she begged - and then dancing again while Bones renewed his acquaintance with Poppy. It didn't escape my notice that Verses stared at us. From his expression, he sensed something was up and didn't want it at his club. Well, neither did we. That's why we had booby traps waiting back at our house. Come on over, would-be killer. We have treats ready.
After two a.m., we headed out to the parking lot. Out of habit, I had my hand near my sleeves, where several throwing knives lined my arms. We were three rows away from our Hummer when the air became electrified. Bones and I whirled at the same time, each of us pulling out a knife. My mother grabbed Tammy. Several vampires dropped from the sky to land in a wide circle around us.
Oh fuck , was my thought. We'd left Bite only a few seconds ago. Not nearly enough time to coordinate this kind of attack. I counted, noting the vibe wafting off each of them. Twelve vampires, several of them Masters. Too many of them to be just about killing a human heiress. This wasn't about Tammy.
Bones knew it, too. He gave an almost languid look around, but I could feel his tenseness grating across my subconscious. "X, what an unpleasant surprise. This clearly isn't coincidence, so tell me, who betrayed me?"
The black haired vampire addressed as X stepped forward. "A human hires a hitman to kill his cousin for money, boring. That same hitman botches the job twice, funny. Then the desperate hitman sends a ghoul after the girl to finish things up, my curiosity's piqued. That same ghoul ends up with his head cut off by a mysterious redhead...ah. Now I'm interested."
"Who's your friend, honey?" I asked Bones, not taking my eyes off of X.
"Former coworker, you could say. An overly competitive one who got brassed off when I killed several of his best clients."
Former coworker . X must not have been a small-time hit man for Bones to refer to him that way, which meant the vampires with him had to be badasses, too. Our chances just got downgraded from slim to screwed.
"Could my old friend Bones be involved, I wondered?" X went on. "The young heiress has government connections, it turns out, and so does the Reaper. And the Reaper's supposed to be such a bleeding heart when it comes to humans. When another rumor spread that the human heiress would be here tonight, I took precautions in case I was right about who was protecting her. And lucky me, I was."
Precautions? That was one way to describe the dozen vampires surrounding us, all of whom were armed to the teeth. I glanced back at the nightclub. Would anyone come to our aid? Or would they stick to the whole "no violence on the premises thing" and stay the hell away?
"You're here for me, leave her out of it," Bones said, with a barely perceptible nod at Tammy. "Let her go back inside, and we'll settle this ourselves."
"She may not be why I'm here, but I'll be sure to kill her, too, so I don't risk war."
Clever bastard. If X killed us while we were defending Tammy, he could call it business. Tammy had a contact out on her; otherwise, Bones's people could consider it personal and retaliate for our slaughter. X was covering his bases well.
Tammy began to whimper. X gave her a genial smile. "If it makes you feel better, your cousin's dead. I killed him after I learned what I needed to know about you."
So that's why Don couldn't find Gables, not that it did us any good now.
Bones glanced at me. "Kitten, are you getting angry yet?"
I knew what he meant. Since I found out I'd absorbed firestarting power from the pyrokinetic vampire I drank from, I'd fought to keep that borrowed ability under control. But now, I let all the repressed anger, determination, fear, and sadness from the past few months roar to the surface. My hands became engulfed in blue flames, sparks shooting onto the ground.
"Kill her!" X shouted.
Knives flew at me in a blur. I rolled to avoid them, concentrating on X. Two months ago, I'd burned an entire property and explode a Master vampire's head right off his shoulders. Burn, I thought, glaring at X. Burn.
Except...he didn't catch fire. Sparks still shot from my flame-covered hands, but nothing more lethal came out of them. I shook my hands in frustration. Work, damn you! Flame on, fingers!
But the previous, deadly streams of fire that had scared me with their ferocity seemed to have vanished. The most dangerous thing I could do with my hands now was light someone's cigarette.
"Oh, shit," my mother whispered.
I couldn't agree more.
"Protect Tammy," I yelled, then grabbed for my knives, cursing as I tried to dodge another hail of blades aimed at me. Some of them found their mark, but none in my chest, thank God. Still, that silver burned where it landed, making me fight the urge to yank it out now. I flung some of my weapons instead, adding more silver to the barrage Bones had just sent. Then I rolled behind one of the cars for cover, finally getting the chance to snatch out the silver embedded in my shoulders and legs.
Tammy screamed as some of the vampires took to the air. I took two of the knives I'd pulled from my body and sent them winging at the vampire closest to where she was crouched. The blades found their mark, and he crashed into a car instead of Tammy and my mother, who was crouched over her.
The rest of the vampires seemed more concerned with taking on Bones than dealing with Tammy or my mother. I rolled under a truck to get to Bones - and then screamed as my shirt went up in flames.
Goddamnit! There must have been oil drops pooled underneath the truck I'd rolled under, and the useless sparks from my hands ignited it.
"Kitten, you all right?" Bones called out.
"Fine!" I yelled back, afraid he'd get killed rushing to check on me.
Stupid, stupid, stupid , I lashed myself. Oil plus sparks equals fire, dumb ass!
I'd just ripped my burning shirt off when a car slammed into me, pinning me to the vehicle behind me. I gasped at the unbelievable pain, paralyzing in its intensity. Tammy screamed. Over that, I heard Bones hoarsely call my name.
Something thudded on the mangled car pinning me. The redheaded vampire. He smiled as he pulled out a silver blade, knowing as I did that I couldn't shove the car off in time to save myself.
But there was something I could do. Oil plus sparks equals fire, I thought savagely, and rammed my fist through the car's fuel tank.
A terrific boom went off, combined with the agonizing sensation of being thrown backward, burning, across the parking lot. For a stunned second, I didn't know if I was still alive. Then I realized I wouldn't hurt this much if I were dead.
Move , I told myself, fighting back the lethargy that made me want to curl up wherever I'd landed. Keep blinking, your vision will come back.
After a few more blinks, the parking lot was in a double outline, but I could see. Check for incoming. Do you have any knives left? Two, right, make them count.
"I'm okay," I called out, my voice almost unrecognizable. I hated giving away my position, but I was more worried about Bones losing it if he was too distracted to feel our connection and thought I'd been blown to bits.
"Christ almighty, Kitten," I heard him mutter, and smiled even though it felt like it cracked my face. I was afraid to look at my skin. Burnt bacon could pass for my twin right now. You'll heal, I reminded myself. Quit worrying about your looks and get back to worrying about your ass.
I flexed my fingers, relieved that the horrible splitting sensation was gone. Now I could grasp my knives with purpose, and my vision was clearing by the moment. Through the dirty car window in front of me, I saw Bones fighting off four vampires. He whirled and struck in a dizzying display of violence, slicing and hacking whenever they came too close. Now, where were Tammy and my mother?
I'd snuck around a few dead vampires - one of them crispy - I noticed with satisfaction - and was tiptoeing around a Benz when X sprang out of nowhere. He shoved me, slamming me into yet another car - God, I was so sick of feeling my bones crunch against metal! - but instead of springing forward, I let myself slump as if dazed. X was on me in the next second, knees pinning my torso to the concrete, glowing green gaze victorious as he raised his knife.
My hand shot out, the silver knife clenched in it going straight into his chest. I smiled as I gave it a hard twist. That's it for you, X.
But he didn't slump forward like he should have. Instead, the knife he'd raised slammed into my chest without an instant's hesitation.
Pain erupted in me, so hot and fierce it rivaled what I'd felt when the car exploded on me. That pain grew until I wanted to scream, but I didn't have the energy. Everything seemed to fade out of view except his bright emerald gaze.
"How?" I managed, barely able to croak out the word.
X leaned forward. "Situs inversus," he whispered. His hand tightened on the blade, twisting -
Blue filled my vision. I didn't understand why, and for a second, I wondered if it was even real. Then the blue tilted to the side, X's severed arm still holding the knife in my chest, but the rest of him elsewhere. Sheet metal, I thought dazedly. Bones must have ripped it off a car and wielded it like a huge saw.
X was on his back, the stump from his right arm slowly extending out into a new limb as he fought Bones. I wanted to help, but I couldn't get up. The pain had me pinned, gasping and twitching as I tried to escape from it.
"Don't move, Kitten!" Bones shouted. A brutal rip from his knife sliced open X's chest, oddly to the right of X's sternum. Bones twisted the blade so hard it broke off, and then he was next to me, his hand pinning my wrists above my head.
"Kitten."
As soon as I saw his face, I knew how bad it was. That should've occurred to me before, considering I had a silver knife with shriveling hand still attached to it in my chest, but somehow, the pain had blinded me to reality. Now, however, I realized these were my last moments on earth.
I tried to smile. "Love you," I whispered.
A single pink tear rolled down Bones's cheek, but his voice was steady. "Don't move," he repeated, and slowly began to tug on the knife.
My chest felt like it was on fire. I tried not to look at the knife. Tried to focus on Bones's face, but my own gaze was blurred pink, too. I'll miss you so much.
The blade shivered a fraction and a spasm of pain ripped through me. Bones compressed his lips, letting my wrists go to press on my chest with his free hand.
"Don't move..."
I couldn't stand it. That burning from my chest felt like it had spread all through me. A scream built in my throat, but I choked it back. Please, don't let him see me die screaming...
The agony stopped just as abruptly as it started. Bones let out a harsh sound that was followed by a clatter of metal on the ground. I looked down, seeing a slash in my chest that began to close, the skin seaming back together as it healed.
And then Bones spun around. A vampire stood behind him, holding a big knife and wearing the weirdest expression on his face. He dropped to his knees and pitched forward, a silver handle sticking out of his back. My mother was behind the vampire. Her hands were bloody.
"Rough, quick, and thorough, or you won't get a second chance," she mumbled, almost to herself.
Bones stared. "That's right, Justina." Then he began to laugh. "Well done."
I was stunned. Bones swept me up, kissing me so hard I tasted blood when his fangs pierced my lips.
"Don't you ever frighten me like that again."
"He didn't die," I said, still stunned by the recent events. "I twisted a blade in his heart, but he didn't die."
"Like he said, situs inversus." At my confused expression, Bones went on. "Means he was born with his organs backward, so his heart was on the right. That's what saved his life before, but he shouldn't have admitted it while I could hear him."
I hadn't known such a condition existed. Note to self: Learn more about anatomical oddities.
Bones scanned the parking lot, but the only vampires out here were the ones gathered around the side of the nightclub. Onlookers, I thought in amazement. Had they stood there the whole time and just watched?
Fear leapt in me. "Where's Tammy?"
"I ran her inside after the car blew up," my mother said. "She'd be safe in there, you said."
And then she'd come back outside to face a pack of hit men. Tears pricked my eyes even as Bones smiled at her.
"You saved my life, Justina."
She looked embarrassed, and then scowled. "I didn't know if you were finished getting that knife out of Catherine. I couldn't let him sneak up on you and stab you until my daughter was okay."
Bones laughed. "Of course."
I shook my head. She'd never change, but that was okay. I loved her anyway.
Verses walked out of Bite with Tammy at his side. From her red-rimmed eyes, she'd been crying.
"It's over," I told her.
Tammy ran and hugged me. I wanted to say something profound and comforting, but all I could do was repeat, "It's over."
At least Tammy wouldn't remember any of this. No, her memories would be replaced with one where she'd been sequestered by boring bodyguards provided by her father's former friends. Tammy would go into adulthood without the burden of knowing there were things in the night no average human could stand against. She'd be normal. It was the best birthday present I could give her.
"You fought on the premises," Verses stated.
Bones let out a snort. "You noticed that, did you, mate?"
"Maybe if you wouldn't have stood there and done nothing while we were ambushed, your precious premises would still be in one piece!" my mother snapped at Versus. "Don't you have any loyalty? Bones said you were a friend!"
Verses raised his brows at her withering tone, then cast a glance around at the parking lot. Vampire bodies littered the area, one of the cars was still on fire, and various others were smashed, ripped, or dented.
"I am his friend," Verses replied. "Which is why I'll let all of you leave without paying for the damages."
"He doesn't sound like we'll be welcomed back," I murmured to Bones. "So much for coming here during the rest of our vacation to explore all those private areas."
Bones's lips brushed my forehead. "Don't fret, luv. I know another club in Brooklyn I think you'll really fancy..."
The End
ONCE BURNEDJeaniene Frost
Get a special sneak peek into Jeaniene's upcoming novel, ONCE BURNED, the first book in the new Night Prince series. From the back of the book:
She's a mortal with dark powers...
After a tragic accident scarred her body and destroyed her dreams, Leila never imagined that the worst was still to come: terrifying powers that let her channel electricity and learn a person's darkest secrets through a single touch. Leila is doomed to a life of solitude...until creatures of the night kidnap her, forcing her to reach out with a telepathic distress call to the world's most infamous vampire...
He's the Prince of Night...
Vlad Tepesh inspired the greatest vampire legend of all-but whatever you do, don't call him Dracula. Vlad's ability to control fire makes him one of the most feared vampires in existence, but his enemies have found a new weapon against him - a beautiful mortal with powers to match his own. When Vlad and Leila meet, however, passion ignites between them, threatening to consume them both. It will take everything that they are to stop an enemy intent on bringing them down in flames.
Note: This excerpt does not include the entire beginning of ONCE BURNED, so it does not start at chapter one. Since this has not been through final editing yet, portions of the excerpt may change slightly from the published version.
ONCE BURNED excerpt
I faced my captors in what looked to be a hotel room, my hands folded in my lap as if I was placing a dinner order and they were waiters. If you ever meet another vampire, don't panic. You'll only smell like prey, Marty had warned me. I knew what my captors were after seeing their eyes turn glowing green. That was why I didn't bother lying when they asked me how I doubled as an electric eel and had the ability to siphon information through touch. If I lied, they'd only use the power in their gaze to make me tell the truth - or do whatever else they wanted - and I didn't want to give them any more control over me than they already had.
I also didn't try to run even though they hadn't tied me up. Most people didn't know vampires existed, let alone what they could do, but because of my ability to pick up information through touch, I'd known about vampires since before I met Marty. My abilities meant I knew all sorts of things I wished I didn't.
Like the fact that my captors had every intention of killing me; that topped the list of things I wished I didn't know at the moment. I'd seen my death after being forced to touch the auburn-haired vampire again, and it was an image that made me want to clutch my neck while backing away screaming.
I didn't. Guess I should be grateful that my unwanted abilities meant I'd experienced so many horrible deaths; I could look at my impending execution with a morbid sort of relief. Getting my throat ripped out would hurt - I'd relived that through other people enough times to know - but it wasn't the worst way to die. Besides, nothing was set in stone. I'd seen a glimpse of my possible future, but I'd managed to prevent Jackie's murder. Maybe I could find a way to prevent my own.
"So let me get this straight," Auburn Hair said, drawing the words out. "You touched a downed power line when you were thirteen, nearly died, and then later, your body began giving off electric voltage and your right hand divined psychic impressions from whatever you touched?"
More had happened, but it wasn't information I wanted to reveal and he wouldn't care about those details anyway.
"You experienced the voltage part yourself," I said with a shrug. "As for the other, yeah, if I touch something, I get impressions off it." Whether I want to or not, I silently added.
He smiled then, his gaze roving over the thin, jagged scar that was the visible remains of my brush with death. "What did you see when you touched me?"
"Past or future?" I asked, grimacing at either memory.
He exchanged an interested look with his buddies. "Both."
How I would love to lie, but I didn't need psychometric abilities to know if they doubted me, I'd be dead in moments.
"You like eating children." The words made bile rise in my throat that I swallowed before continuing. "And you're intending to drink me to death if I don't prove useful to you."
His smile widened, showing the tips of his fangs as he didn't deny either charge. If I hadn't seen similar menacing, fanged grins through the eyes of people I'd been psychically linked to, I would have been pants-pissing terrified, but a jaded part of me simply acknowledged him for what he was: evil. And I was no stranger to evil, much as I wished otherwise.
"If she's the real deal like we heard, it could give us the edge we've been looking for," his brunet companion muttered.
"I think you're right," Auburn Hair drawled.
I didn't want to die, but there were some things I wouldn't do even if it cost me my life. "Ask me to help you kidnap children, and you may as well start in on my neck now."
Auburn Hair laughed. "I can do that on my own," he assured me, making my stomach lurch with revulsion. "What I want you for is more...complicated. If I bring you objects to touch, can you tell me about their owner? Such as what he's doing, where he is, and most importantly, where he will be?"
I didn't want to do anything to help this disgusting, murderous group, but my choices were grim. If I refused, I'd get mesmerized into doing it anyway, or get tortured into doing it, or die choking on my own blood because I was of no use to them. Maybe this was my chance to better my circumstances and change the fate they intended for me.
Why do you want to? a dark inner voice whispered. Aren't you sick of drowning in other people's sins? Isn't death your only way out?
I glanced at my wrist, the faint scars that had nothing to do with my electrocution marking my skin. One time, I'd listened to that despairing inner voice, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit part of me was still tempted by it. But then I thought of Marty, how grieved my aunts would be, how I hadn't told my dad I loved him the last time we spoke, and finally, how I didn't want to give these bastards the satisfaction of killing me.
My head came up and I met the leader's gaze. "My abilities are tied to my emotions. Abuse me mentally or physically, and you'll have better luck calling a psychic hotline to find out what you want to know. That means no murdering anyone while I'm getting information for you, and no touching me at all."
That last part I said because of the lustful look the brunet had been giving me. My skintight leotard and boxer shorts didn't leave much to the imagination, but it was what I trained in. I hadn't expected to be kidnapped today or I'd have worn something more conservative.
"Don't think you can mesmerize me into forgetting whatever you do, either," I added, waving my right hand. "Psychic impressions, remember? I'll touch you or an object nearby and find out, and then your human crystal ball will be broken."
All the above was bullshit. They could do anything they wanted and I'd still pull impressions from whatever my right hand touched, but I'd used my most convincing tone while praying that for once, I'd prove to be a good liar.
Auburn Hair flashed his fangs at me in another of his scary smiles. "I think we can manage that, if you deliver what you say you can."
I smiled back with nothing close to humor. "Oh, I can deliver, all right."
Then I glanced at the light socket behind him. And that's not all I can do. The horrible accident that had forever altered my life had left me with one more ability, and if I was lucky, that ability would save me.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
Auburn-Haired's name was Jackal, according to what his friends called him. Their names sounded equally made up, so I mentally referred to them as Pervert, Psycho, and Twitchy since the latter couldn't seem to stay still. Twitchy and Pervert went out over an hour ago to get some things for me to touch. I'd spent that time sitting on the edge of the hotel's lumpy mattress, listening to Jackal talk on his cell phone in a language I didn't recognize. I was getting chilly in my leotard, but I didn't pull the covers over me. All my instincts were urging me to stay still and not attract any attention to myself, as if that mattered. The predators in this room were very aware of me even if they didn't glance in my direction.
When Pervert and Twitchy came back, I looked at the duffel bag they carried with a mixture of dread and optimism. What was inside might lead to more grisly images blasting across my mind, but it would also ensure my safety. Until I proved I could psychically spy on whoever it was they wanted to find, I was as good as dead.
"Put the objects in a row on the bed," I directed Twitchy, ignoring the startled look he gave me. If I acted like a pitiful damsel in distress, then that's how they'd treat me. But if I acted like a vital tool in their search for whomever they wanted these objects to lead them to, I upped my chances for survival.
At least, I hoped I did.
"Do it," Jackal said, folding his arms across his chest. His stare felt like weights dropping onto me, but I took in several deep breaths and tried to ignore him. Seeing what Twitchy took out of the duffel bag helped with that.
A charred piece of fabric, a partially-melted watch, a ring, something that looked like a belt, and a knife that shone with a distinct silvery gleam.
That last item made my heart skip a beat, something I hoped the others chalked up to nervousness instead of what it was. Excitement. The movies had it all wrong when it came to vampires. Wooden stakes wouldn't harm them, nor would sunlight, crosses, or holy water. But silver through the heart meant the party was over, and now I had a silver knife within grabbing distance.
Not yet , I warned myself. I'd wait until they were so convinced I was helpless that they wouldn't think twice about leaving a silver knife within easy reach. Or until at least two of them left again, whichever came first.
"All right," Jackal said, snapping my gaze back to him. He nodded at the objects. "Do your thing."
I mentally braced myself and then picked up the charred piece of fabric first.
Smoke was everywhere. Twin beams of light cut through it, landing on the vampire half concealed by the forklift. Terror flooded him as he realized he'd been spotted. Tied into his emotions, I shuddered as well, feeling his horror as his attempt to run was stopped short and rough hands hauled him back.
At first the smoke was so thick I couldn't see past the bright gaze lasered on me. Then I saw dark hair framing a lean face that had the shadow of stubble around the jaw and mouth. That mouth stretched into a smile that wasn't cruel, as I'd expected, but looked surprisingly good-humored.
"Raziel," the dark-haired stranger said in a chiding tone. "You shouldn't have."
I'd heard parents scold their children more harshly, so I didn't expect the torrent of fear that flooded over Raziel.
"Please," he gasped.
"Please?" The stranger laughed, revealing white teeth with two distinct upper fangs. "How unoriginal."
Then he let Raziel go, turning around and waving farewell in a friendly manner. I felt relief overwhelm me to the point that my knees trembled, but Raziel didn't let that stop him. He lunged toward the warehouse door.
That's when the fire swarmed him, forming out of nowhere. It climbed up his legs in coiling, merciless bands, making me scream from the sudden blast of agony. Raziel tried to run faster, but that only made the fire climb higher. He flung himself onto the floor next, rolling, every nerve ending howling with anguish, but the fire still didn't extinguish. It kept growing, covering him with ruthless, hungry waves, until a roaring blackness rushed up and consumed him. The last thing Raziel saw as he floated above his lifeless body was the dark-haired vampire still walking away, his hands now lit up by flames that somehow didn't scorch his skin.
I blinked in disbelief. When my eyes opened, I was back in the hotel room curled into the fetal position, much like Raziel had been when he died. I must have instinctively mimicked his actions with the memory of those phantom flames.
"Well?" Jackal's demanding voice was a relief because it centered me in reality instead of the nightmare I'd been forced to relive. "What did you see?"
I righted myself on the bed and threw the charred piece of fabric at him.
"I saw someone named Raziel get Krispy Kremed by a vampire who apparently can control fire," I said, still trying to shake off the echoes of that gruesome death.
The four of them exchanged a look that could only be described as delighted. "Jackpot!" Psycho exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air.
From how happy they were, I guessed that either Raziel hadn't been a friend or they already knew what had happened to him and this had been a test.
"Let's be a hundred percent sure," Jackal said, his grin fading. "Touch the ring next."
I picked it up, tensing in grim expectation, but a scattershot of images I'd already seen filled my mind. They were still revolting enough to make me want to vomit, but in addition to being in the grayish colors of the past, they felt fainter, like I was watching a movie instead of experiencing them firsthand. With a shake of my head to clear it, I set the ring back down by Jackal.
"Maybe you made a mistake. The only impressions I'm picking up off this are yours, and they don't tell me anything new."
His hazel eyes gleamed emerald for a second, and then he let out a loud whoop that made me flinch.
"It's not a fluke, she's for fucking real!"
Anything that thrilled a sadistic child murderer freaked me out, but I tried not to let it show. Don't panic, Marty had said. Prey panics, and then prey gets eaten.
"On to the next one?" I asked, trying to sound as cool as I could under the circumstances.
They stopped their high-fiving to look at me. "Yeah," Jackal said, pushing the knife toward me. His excitement was almost palpable. "Only this time, I want you to concentrate on the firestarter. Try to see where the bastard is now, not just what happened when he butchered Neddy."
That told me the knife would make me relive another murder, but that wasn't what made me pause before reaching for it.
"The firestarter?" I repeated. "He's who you want me to find through these objects?"
Are you out of your minds? I almost added, but didn't because even if they were, I wasn't.
"You can do it, right?" Jackal asked, all mirth wiping from his expression.
Sure I could, but I didn't want to. I doubted the firestarter was a friend; Jackal calling him a bastard in that contemptuous tone plus wanting me to find where he was smacked of nefarious intentions. Anyone smart would avoid being on the same continent as that creature if they were at odds, yet Jackal and the others must be trying to ambush him. The memory of the firestarter's charming smile right before he burned Raziel to a heap of smoldering ruins was something I wanted to forget. But if I refused to look for him, I wouldn't live long enough to worry about forgetting anything.
Any way you cut it, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or, more accurately, between a fang and a sharp place.
I reached for the silver knife without another word. With that single touch, the grayish images from Neddy's death invaded my consciousness. No surprise that the firestarter was the one who killed him, using the knife after some preliminary toasting. Also no shock was that he did it with the same sort of detached geniality he'd shown Raziel. I pushed past the searing pain I felt, past the feeling of Neddy floating into whatever awaited people after death, and focused on the firestarter, trying to see him now instead of only then.
This part was harder. In highly emotional situations, everyone left a piece of their essence onto objects, but the firestarter hadn't been worked up over killing Neddy so only a smidgeon of his remained on the knife. Still, detached or not, nothing tied two people closer together than death. Something about the door to the other world cracking open made essences merge and imprint more strongly, so once I pushed past the seething remains of Neddy's rage and fear, I felt the firestarter's distinct essence. It was only as big as a thread, but I wrapped all my concentration around it and pulled.
Black and white images were replaced with full color clarity. Instead of the grimy riverfront setting where Neddy had met his end, I saw opulent drapes surrounding me. At first I thought I was in a small room, but then I realized the midnight green drapes hung around a large bed, cocooning it. The firestarter lay in the center of it, fully clothed, his eyes closed as though he were asleep.
Gotcha , I thought, torn between relief and dismay at finding him in what I knew was the present.
I'd only seen him before through the grayish tones of past memories, so I took my time studying him now. At first, he looked like a normal, well-built man in his thirties, but then hints of his uniqueness showed. His espresso-colored hair was past his shoulders - longer than most men dared, but on him it somehow looked supremely masculine. Black pants and an indigo shirt draped over muscles that appeared far harder than a gym membership usually accounted for, and though no flames clung to his hands, they were crisscrossed with scars that looked like former battle wounds. His high cheekbones were accented by stubble somewhere between five o'clock shadow and a beard, yet instead of coming across as unkempt, it was rugged and enticing. I hadn't seen a man pull off that look so well since Aragorn in Lord of the Rings, and his eyes...
Were no longer closed. They opened, not an indistinct gray from the colorless lens of the past, but a rich copper shade encircled by rings of evergreen. I would have thought they were beautiful, but at the moment, they looked as though they were staring right into mine.
It unnerved me, but I reminded myself it was only coincidence. No one ever knew it when I used my abilities to establish a link. I could be the world's biggest voyeur if I wanted, but my most fervent wish was to know less about people, not more -
"Who are you?"
I jumped as though stung. If I hadn't seen his finely shaped lips move, I would've thought I'd imagined the words. Coincidence, I reminded myself again. Any second someone would come into my line of vision and I'd see who he was really talking to -
"I'll ask a second time," his deep, slightly accented voice said. "Who are you, and how the hell are you inside my head?"
That scared me into dropping the link at once, forcing all of my focus back to the hotel room with my four kidnappers. The ornate bed with its encircling drapes disappeared, replaced by ass-ugly wallpaper and a bed that would probably result in my getting bug bites. I let go of the silver knife as though it burned me, still reeling over what just happened.
"Well?" Jackal asked. "Did you find him?"
"Oh yeah." My voice was nearly a croak from shock.
"And?" he prodded.
No way was I going to tell him the firestarter had somehow realized he was being been spied on. If Jackal knew that, he'd kill me on the spot so the firestarter couldn't follow the link back through me to find him. It was possible. If he could feel me in his head, the firestarter could probably hear me, too...
With a flash of inspiration that was more reckless than smart, I knew what I had to do.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
Twitchy, Pervert, and Psycho had already left the room, but Jackal stayed by the tiny desk. From his expression, he had no intention of moving.
I let out a sigh. "You think I'm going to escape out the window if you leave me alone? Come on, the others would hear it and stop me. Can't call 911 and say, "Help, a bunch of vampires kidnapped me!" either. Even if they didn't think it was a crank call, you'd just mesmerize any cops into leaving. Or eat them. Either way, I'm not going anywhere and I know it."
"You're up to something," Jackal stated.
It took all my willpower not to flinch, but I schooled myself to stay absolutely still. Don't panic, don't panic...
"I don't know what, but I can smell that you're plotting something," he went on.
I cleared my throat. "What you smell is someone whose been breaking out in cold sweats ever since she was kidnapped by vampires. If you want more information on your fire guy aside from how nice his drapes are, then leave. How am I supposed to concentrate when I'm being stared at by a pack of creatures that keep looking at my neck and licking their lips?"
He was suddenly in front of me, his hand gripping my chin. "What are you really trying to do?" he asked, forcing me to look into his now-glowing eyes.
Their effect was immediate. I felt drowsy, unconcerned, and talkative even as a part of me screeched in alarm.
"Can't link to him with all of you watching," I mumbled. "Can't get deep enough in his mind for it to work."
His eyes brightened until it almost hurt to look into them. "That's all?"
The words "he sees me, too" hovered on my lips, about to fall and seal my fate. But though I felt like I'd just smoked a pound of weed, I found the strength to say something else.
"Too scared...with you here."
That was the truth, but the reasons why remained unspoken. Jackal released me, his gaze still lit up. "You won't call anyone or try to leave this room."
His words resonated through my mind. I nodded without thinking. He shoved me and I fell back onto the bed, but to my relief, Jackal then headed to the door.
"You have an hour. Find him again, and more importantly, find where he will be in the future."
He opened the door, and then paused. Before my next blink, Jackal had ripped the phone cord in two.
"That's for insurance," he muttered, and finally left.
I waited a few seconds and then let out the breath I'd been holding. Holy shit, that was close! I had no idea how I'd managed not to spill everything when Jackal turned his Lite-Brite's on me, but I'd count my blessings later.
They say the devil you know is better than the one you don't. Maybe that was true, but considering what Jackal and the others had planned for me, I was going with Option B. It gave me better odds than trying to fight off four vampires with one puny knife - which Jackal had taken with him, I noticed. Must not want to risk me attempting suicide, although what I was about to do might turn out to be the equivalent of that.
There wasn't time for me to second guess my decision, so I picked up the charred piece of fabric and Raziel's death washed over me again. As usual, the impressions were fainter, the first touch always producing the most intense experience.
I pushed past Raziel's tortuous last moments to latch onto the firestarter's essence. What had been a thread before now felt like a rope because of my previous connection, so I grabbed it and pulled with all my might. My dingy surroundings fell away, replaced by a huge room with soaring ceilings, elegant furniture, and tapestries on every wall. It wasn't empty; two men stood in front of a fireplace that was big enough to fit both of them. I saw with relief that one of them was the firestarter, and the other a brawny African American who was shaking his head.
"Of course I don't think you're joking, but it still doesn't seem possible -"
"Shhh!" the firestarter hissed. Very slowly, his head turned. When those burnished copper eyes seemed to land on me, I fought my instinct to drop the link and run like hell.
"Oh, it's too late for you to run," he said coldly.
The words slammed into me, shocking me. I'd hoped with a little time - and a lot of luck - I could send him specific messages. It never occurred to me that the firestarter could read my mind as soon as I established a link. What kind of creature was he?
"A dangerous one you shouldn't have trifled with," was his response. "Whoever you are, rest assured that I will find you."
Fear paralyzed my mind. He was pissed, and I'd seen what he did to people when he looked to be in a good mood.
His friend glanced around. "Who are you -?"
"Quiet," the firestarter said. "Leave."
The brawny man walked out of my sight without another word. The firestarter stayed in front of the enormous hearth, those orange and yellow flames growing as if they longed to reach him through the screen.
"Quit calling me firestarter, it's insulting. You're spying on me, so you know who I am."
"I don't," I said aloud, then cursed myself. If Jackal heard me and came to investigate, I might not be able to resist a second dose of his gaze before I spilled the truth.
Look, you've got me all wrong , I thought rapidly, hoping his antennae into my head hadn't lost its signal. I have no idea who you are, but four vampires kidnapped me and they're forcing me to locate you for them.
"Oh?" Amusement replaced the former harshness in his expression. "If that's true, I'll make it easy on you. I'm at my home. Tell the others to drop by anytime."
Flames coated his hands with the words, a warning I didn't need because I was terrified of him already. That fear combined with the death Jackal had planned for me made my reply snappy.
That's great, but I'm not only supposed to find out where you are now. I'm supposed to find out where you'll be in the future, and I'm guessing you won't be as flip about that.
His brows drew together at once, making those coppery green eyes all the more riveting - and frightening.
"You can see the future?" All traces of humor left his expression.
I heaved a mental sigh. How to explain an ability I didn't fully understand?
If I touch someone - or an object with a strong emotional essence on it - I catch glimpses of things. If the glimpses are in black and white, they're from the past. If they're in color but hazy, they're from the future. And if I concentrate, I can trace someone's essence from an object to find that person in the present, which looks clear and normal to me. That's how I found you. Jackal gave me pieces of things from people you killed.
He continued to stare at me until I squirmed. Aside from it being unbelievable that he could hear me, he seemed able to see me, too! How? I wasn't there, after all.
"I don't see you like you're thinking," he answered, a tight smile playing about his lips. "You're a voice in my head, but when I concentrate, it's though you're here yet you're invisible."
That sounded creepy. I didn't have time to ponder it, because he went on.
"Someone named Jackal is after me? I don't recognize the name, but it's likely an alias. He kidnapped you, you say?"
He and three of his buddies snatched me right off my trampoline this morning , I answered, scowling at the memory.
"Do you know where they're holding you?"
I knew exactly where I was. Even if I couldn't tell by touching items in the room, the phone had the hotel's full address printed on it. Still, I wasn't about to tell Mr. Inferno where that was until we agreed on some terms.
He grunted in amusement. "Terms? You want a reward for turning them in to me?"
I want to live , I thought at him grimly.I saw what you did to Neddy and Raziel, so I want your word that if I tell you where Jackal and the others are, you'll kill them , not me.
"Depends," he said, voice crisp as though this were a business transaction. "If you truly were forced into this as you claim, then I vow you'll come to no harm since you were truthful with me about their intentions. But if you're lying in an attempt to lead me into a trap..."
He flashed me one of those charming smiles that had been the last thing Neddy and Raziel had seen. I shuddered.
I'm not lying , I sent to him. The only people I'm trying to trap are Jackal, Pervert, Psycho, and Twitchy.
"Then you have nothing to fear from me," he said, not commenting on the other names. He clasped those deadly hands in front of him. "And it's time we were properly introduced. I'm Vlad, and you are?"
I hesitated, but replied with my real name because I didn't want to risk even a white lie with this creature.
Leila. My name is Leila .
"Leila." He said my name as though he could taste the syllables. That charming smile widened. "Now, tell me where you are."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
ONCE BURNED releases spring 2012. Please see Jeaniene's website at www.jeanienefrost.com for more details.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYSJeaniene Frost
Here is an excerpt from Jeaniene's story, Home for the Holidays, which will appear in THE BITE BEFORE CHRISTMAS anthology with author Lynsay Sands. From the back of the book:
Two of the hottest names in paranormal romance team up for the first time to offer this holiday treat-an anthology of brand new stories featuring familiar faces from the Argeneau and Night Huntress series. In Lynsay Sands' "The Gift," Katricia Argeneau knows grey-eyed cop Teddy Brunswick is her life mate. She just needs to convince him they belong together, and being snowbound in a secluded cabin will make this a Christmas neither will forget. It's "Home for the Holidays" in Jeaniene Frost's Night Huntress series. Cat and Bones may long to wrap presents and set up a tree, but this Christmas, an evil vampire and long-buried family secrets will threaten to take a bite out of their holiday cheer.
Available everywhere, October 25th, 2011.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYSChapter 1
I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes to midnight. The vampire would be back soon, and despite hours of careful preparation, I wasn't ready for him.
A ghost's head popped through the wall, the rest of his body concealed by the wood barrier. He took one look around the room and a frown appeared on his filmy visage.
"You're not going to make it."
I yanked the wire through the hole I'd drilled into the ceiling's rafter, careful not to shift my weight too far or I'd fall off the ladder I was balanced on. Fabian was right, but I wasn't ready to concede defeat.
"When he pulls up, stall him."
"How am I supposed to do that?" he asked.
Good question. Unlike humans, vampires could see ghosts, but tended to ignore them as a general rule. While this vampire showed more respect to the corporeal-impaired, he still wouldn't stop to have a lengthy chat with one before entering his home.
"Can't you improvise? You know, make some loud pounding noises or cause the outer walls to bleed?"
The ghost shot me a look that said my witticism wasn't appreciated. "You watch too many movies, Cat."
Then Fabian vanished from sight, but not before I heard him muttering about unfair stereotypes.
I finished twisting together the wires along the ceiling. If all went well, as soon as the vampire came through that door, I'd use my remote transmitter to unload a surprise onto his head. Now, to set up the last of the contraptions I'd planned -
The unmistakable sound of a car approaching almost startled me into falling off the ladder. Damn it, the vampire was back! No time to rig any other devices. I barely had enough time to conceal myself.
I leapt off the ladder and carried it as noiselessly as I could to the closet. The last thing I needed was a bunch of metallic clanging to announce that something unusual was going on. Then I swept up the silver knives I'd left on the floor. It wouldn't do for the vampire to see those right off.
I'd just crouched behind one of the living room chairs when I heard a car door shut and then Fabian's voice.
"You won't believe what I found around the edge of your property," the ghost announced. "A cave with prehistoric paintings inside it!"
I rolled my eyes. That was the best tactic Fabian could come up with? This was a vampire he was trying to stall. Not a paleontologist.
"Good on you," an English voice replied, sounding utterly disinterested. Booted footsteps came to the door, but then paused before going further. I sucked in a breath I no longer needed. No cars were in the driveway, but did the vampire sense that several people lurked out of sight, waiting to pounce on him as soon as he crossed that threshold?
"Fabian," that cultured voice said next. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you want to tell me?"
A hint of menace colored the vampire's tone. I could almost picture my friend quailing, but his reply was instant.
"No. Nothing else."
"All right," the vampire said after a pause. The knob turned. "Your exorcism if you're lying."
I stayed hidden behind the chair, a silver knife gripped in one hand and the remote transmitter in the other. When the sound of boots hit the wood floor inside the house, I pressed the button and leapt up at the same time.
"Surprise!"
Confetti unleashed from the ceiling onto the vampire's head. With a whiplike motion, I threw my knife and severed the ribbon holding closed a bag of balloons above him. Those floated down more slowly, and by the time the first one hit the floor, the vampires who'd been concealed in the other rooms had come out.
"Happy Birthday," they called out in unison.
"It's not every day someone turns two hundred and forty five," I added, kicking balloons aside as I made my way to the vampire in the doorway.
A slow smile spread across his features, changing them from gorgeous to heart-stopping. Of course, my heart had stopped beating - for the most part - over a year ago, so that was my normal condition.
"This is what you've been so secretive about lately?" Bones murmured, pulling me into his arms once I got close.
I brushed a dark curl from his ear. "They're not just here for your birthday, they're staying for the holidays, too. We're going to have a normal, old-fashioned Christmas for once. Oh, and don't exorcise Fabian; I made him try to stall you. If you were ten minutes later, I'd have had streamers set up, too."
His chuckle preceded the brush of lips against my cheek; a cool, teasing stroke that made me lean closer in instinctive need for more.
"Quite all right. I'm sure I'll find a use for them."
Knowing my husband, he'd find several uses for them, and at least one of those would make me blush.
I moved aside to let Bones get enveloped in well wishes from our guests. In addition to Fabian and his equally transparent girlfriend floating above the room, Bones's best friend, Spade, was here. So was Ian, the vampire who sired Bones; Mencheres, his young-looking vampire version of a grandfather; his girlfriend, Kira, and my best friend Denise. She was the only one in the room with a heartbeat, making her seem human to anyone who didn't know better. Our guest list was small because inviting everyone Bones knew for an extended birthday/holiday bash would require me renting a football stadium. Therefore, only Bones's closest companions were present.
Well, all except one.
"Anybody heard from Annette?" I whispered to Denise when she left Bones's side and returned to mine.
She shook her head. "Spade tried her twenty minutes ago, but she didn't answer her cell."
"Wonder what's keeping her."
Annette might not be my favorite person considering her previous, centuries-long "friends with benefits" relationship with Bones, but she'd be last on my list of people I'd expect to skip his birthday party. Her ties with Bones went all the way back to when both of them were human, and in fairness, Annette seemed to have accepted that her position in his life was now firmly in the "friends without benefits" category.
"She flew in from London to be here," Denise noted. "Seems odd that she'd decide a thirty minute car commute was too much."
"What's this?" Bones asked, making his way over.
I waved a hand, not wanting to spoil the festive mood. "Nothing. Annette must be running behind."
"Some bloke rang her right before we left the hotel. She said she'd catch up with us," Spade said, coming to stand behind Denise. With his great height, her head was barely even with his shoulders, but neither of them seemed to mind. Black hair spilled across his face as he leaned down to kiss her neck.
"Why am I the only one without someone to snog?" Ian muttered, giving me an accusatory glance. "Knew I should've brought a date."
"You didn't get to bring a date because the type of girl you'd pick would want to liven things up with a group orgy before cutting the cake," I pointed out.
His smile was shameless. "Exactly."
I rolled my eyes. "Deal with not being the center of slutty attention for once, Ian. It'll do you good."
"No it won't," he said, shuddering as if in horror. "Think I'll go to the hotel and see what's taking Annette."
Denise snorted. "Way to make do with who's available."
I bit back my laugh with difficulty. Denise's opinion of Ian - and Annette - was even worse than my own, but that didn't make her wrong. Still, out of respect for both of them being Bones's friends, I contained my snicker.
Far from being offended, Ian archly rose his brows. "Just following the American adage about turning a frown upside down."
Mencheres, ever the tactful one, chose that moment to glide over. "Perhaps we should turn our attention to gifts."
Bones clapped Ian on the back. "Don't take too long, mate."
"I'll try to limit myself to an hour," Ian replied with a straight face.
"Pig," I couldn't help but mutter. Hey, I'd tried to rein myself in! If vampires could still get diseases, I'd wish a festering case of herpes on him, but I suppose it was a good thing that Ian's ability to carry or transmit STD's died with his humanity.
Ian left, chuckling to himself the whole time.
Bones's arm slid across my shoulders, his fingers stroking my flesh along the way. I'd worn the backless halter dress because I knew he wouldn't be able to resist that bare expanse of skin, and I was right. Heat spilled over my emotions in its own caress as Bones dropped his shields so I could access his feelings. The tie that existed between us wasn't only forged in love. It was also the blood deep, eternal link between a vampire and their sire. Bones had changed me from a half vampire into a mostly-full one, and ever since, I could tap into his emotions like they were an extension of my own. There had been some serious drawbacks to my changing over, but I'd do it again just to have that level of intimacy between us.
Of course, that wasn't the only undead perk. The ability to heal instantly, fly, and mesmerize people didn't suck, either.
"Do you know how lovely you look?" he asked, his voice deepening in timber. Hints of glowing green appeared in his dark brown eyes, a visual cue of his appreciation.
I leaned in to whisper my reply. "Tell me later, when everyone's gone."
His laugh was low and promising. "That I will, Kitten."
We went into the next room where a pile of presents awaited. Vampires had been called many things, but stingy usually wasn't among them. Bones had barely made a dent in opening his gifts before his cell phone rang. He glanced at the number with a chuckle.
"Ian, don't tell me you and Annette are too occupied to return," he said in lieu of a hello.
Supernatural hearing meant that I picked up every word of Ian's clipped reply.
"You need to get over here. Now."
Bones and I were the only ones to enter the resort. The rest of our group stayed in the parking lot, keeping watch to make sure events didn't go from bad to worse with an ambush. Most people at the inn were sleeping this time of night, which I was grateful for. No intrusive chatter barraging my mind thanks to my unwanted ability to overhear humans' thoughts. Just the softer hum from dreams which was as easy to tune out as your average background noise.
Once I followed Bones inside the Appalachian suite Annette had rented, however, the tranquil atmosphere shattered. Crimson streaked the walls, wood floors, and in heavier quantities, the mattress. From the scent, it was Annette's blood, not someone else's. I expected the room to show signs of a fierce struggle, but not a stick of furniture seemed out of place.
Ian stood in the far corner of the room, his normally mocking countenance drawn into harsh lines of anger.
"In there," he said, jerking his head at the closed bathroom door.
Bones reached it in three long strides, but I hesitated. Ian hadn't told us if Annette was alive, just said to get here immediately. If Annette's body waited on the other side of that door, maybe I should give Bones a minute alone. She was the first vampire he'd ever made; her death would hit him hard. But even as I braced myself to comfort him, I heard a feminine, chiding voice.
"Really, Crispin, you shouldn't have come. You're missing your own party."
My brows shot up. Aside from calling Bones by his human name, which only a handful of people did, those uppercrust British tones identified the speaker as Annette. So much for her being dead. Hell, she didn't even sound fazed, as if her blood wasn't decorating the room in enough quantities to make it look like the inside of a slaughterhouse.
"I'm missing my own party? Have you lost your wits?" Bones asked her, echoing my own thoughts.
The door opened and Annette appeared. She wore only a robe, her strawberry blond hair wet from what I guessed was a recent shower. This was one of the rare occasions I'd seen her without her face perfectly made up or her hair styled to the nines, and it made her look more vulnerable. Less like the undead bombshell who'd tried to scare me off when we first met, and more like a woman who seemed on the verge of tears despite her unfaltering smile.
"What a state this room is in," she said, letting out an embarrassed little laugh.
"Annette." Bones grasped her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Who hurt you?"
Her hands fluttered on his arms, as if she wanted to push him away but didn't dare. "I don't know. I've never seen him before."
Bones studied the room, no doubt picking up nuances that even my battle-practiced gaze had missed. Two hundred years as an undead hit man made him formidable when it came to noticing incriminating details. Annette remained silent, the faint lines on her face deeper from her frown.
"You're lying," Bones finally said. "No forced entry on the doors, no signs of jimmying, so you let him in. Then you didn't struggle when he cut you, didn't wake the other guests with cries for help, and didn't call me though your bloody fingerprints are on your mobile. Ian, did you see who it was?"
"No, but I think I scared the sod off," Ian replied. "The window was open, and I heard something too fast to be human dashing away from the balcony, but I stayed with her instead of giving chase."
That surprised me. Ian loved few things more than a nasty brawl. Annette must be one of the few people he cared about for him to be responsible by protecting her and calling for backup instead of indulging in a murderous game of hide-and-seek.
Though undead healing abilities meant there wasn't a scratch on her now, sometime after the others left to come to my house, at least one vampire had shown up and tortured the hell out of Annette. What made no sense was why Annette wouldn't tell us who it was, if Bones was right and she knew. Aside from the scent of blood, a harsh aroma hung in the room, a pungent combination of chemicals that seared my nose when I took in a breath. No use trying to determine her attacker by scent.
Annette remained silent. Bones's tone hardened.
"An attack against a member of my line is the same as an attack against me, so I'm no longer asking you as your friend. I'm commanding you as your sire to tell me who did this."
With those last three words, Bones unleashed his aura and the weight of his power filled the room. This wasn't the tingling caress of sensations I'd felt from him earlier, but chilling waves of building pressure and crackling currents, like being in the center of an ice storm. Anyone undead within a hundred yard radius would feel the force of Bones's aura, but most especially those tied to him through blood as Annette and I were. She flinched as though he'd struck her, her champagne colored gaze flickering between Bones and the floor.
"Crispin, I... I can't," she said at last, bowing her head. "I told you, I don't know."
Anger pulsed in palpable waves from Bones, showing that he didn't believe her. I was torn. Aside from one incident with me when we first met, Annette was as loyal to Bones as the day was long. She was still in love with him, too, and probably always would be. So why would she defy him over someone who'd tortured her? That was beyond my comprehension.
Unless she thought she was protecting Bones by her actions? I'd thrown myself in front of a few metaphorical trains for that reason. If Bones was right and Annette did know her attacker, maybe she thought whoever sliced and diced her was too powerful for Bones to take on in retaliation.
"Let's get her back to the house," I said, placing my hand on his arm to soothe away some of that furious energy. "We can figure out our next move there."
Bones gave Annette a look that promised he wasn't done with this discussion, but he swept his hand toward the door.
"All right, Kitten. After you." 
To give us some privacy, Spade, Denise, Mencheres, and Kira went back to the guest cabin instead of rejoining us at our home. We hadn't needed to update everyone on what happened. With their hearing, they'd gotten the full scoop while guarding the perimeter of the inn. Annette, Ian, Bones, and I filed back into my house where the balloons, confetti, and banners now seemed out of place with our new somber moods.
"Look at all these lovely gifts," Annette remarked.
"All I want to hear from you is a name," Bones cut her off. "Stop acting as though nothing happened and give it to me."
Annette flounced onto the couch with none of her usual grace. "I told you. I've never seen him before."
Bones sat on the couch across from her, stretching out his legs as though getting ready for an extended nap. "If that were true, you would have given me his description straightaway instead of trying to convince me that you don't know who he is."
"Not to mention you wouldn't have let him in, and you would've fought instead of lying quiet while he carved into you," Ian added, ignoring the dirty look Annette shot him.
Both men had very good points.
"You're wasting your time hoping Bones will let this go," I chimed in. "No self-respecting Master would allow the torture of one of his people to go unpunished. You told me that yourself a long time ago."
Under these admonitions, Annette should have folded. Everything we'd said was true, and she knew it. Yet when I saw her lips compress together, I could tell she still wouldn't budge even though it made no sense.
Fabian materialized in the center of the room. "There's a vampire in the woods!"
I jumped to my feet, going to our nearest cache of weapons. Ian didn't seem interested in armoring up first. He started toward the door.
"Stop."
The single word came from Bones. He hadn't moved from his position on the couch, his lean body still sprawled as if totally relaxed. I knew better. The tension exuding from his aura made the air feel thicker.
"I hoped we'd be followed here," Bones went on in that same quiet, unyielding voice. "Now we don't need Annette to tell us who her attacker was. We'll find out for ourselves."
"Crispin, wait," Annette began, alarm crossing her features.
"You had your chance," he said shortly. Then he glanced at Ian and nodded in Annette's direction. Whatever else she was about to say was cut off when Ian slapped his hand over her mouth. Only faint, muffled grunts came from her as Ian settled on the couch behind Annette, dragging her tight up against him.
"Don't fret. She'll stay quiet like a good girl, won't you, poppet?" Ian drawled in her ear.
Annette's grunts now sounded furious, but there was no way she could overpower Ian. That was also why I wasn't too worried about our uninvited guest. Either he was suicidal, or he had no idea that he was sneaking up a hill where there were several Master vampires, one of whom whom could rip his head off with merely his thoughts.
"Fabian, you only saw one vampire?"
The ghost bobbed his head. "On the lower half of the hill."
Must be why the others didn't sense him yet. Our house and guest house were on the highest point of this hill, deliberately less accessible to any passersby.
"Kitten, come with me," Bones said, rising at last. "Fabian, tell the others to stay inside and talk as though nothing's amiss."
I finished strapping more silver knives to the sheaths lining my arms. Wooden stakes would've been cheaper, but those only worked in the movies. Then I threw a coat on, not for warmth against the frigid November evening, but to conceal all my weapons.
"Ready," I said, my fangs popping out of their own accord.
Ian snorted. "Appears as if Christmas has come early for you, Cat."
I glowered at him, but the exhilaration coursing through me must be evident from my aura. I hadn't wanted a knife-happy intruder to crash Bones's birthday party, but it had been weeks since I'd indulged in a little ass kicking. Who could blame me for wanting to show this vampire what happened to anyone coming around my house looking for trouble?
"Remember we need him alive, luv," Bones said. His gaze flared emerald with his own form of predatory anticipation. "For now at least."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
Frost-coated leaves crunched underneath my feet as I walked through the woods. My strappy heeled sandals were the worst choice of footwear for any normal person navigating these steep hills, but vampires had great reflexes and couldn't catch cold, so I hadn't bothered to change my shoes. Plus, if it made me look more vulnerable to whoever was prowling out here in the dark with me, so much the better.
Bones was somewhere flying above, but I didn't see him due to his clothing blending against the night sky, or him being too high up. I didn't see Fabian or his ghostly girlfriend, either, but I knew they were out here, ready to notify our friends if our prowler turned out to have an entourage. We'd guarded the location of our Blue Ridge home from all but close friends and family, yet if one enemy had found us, others might have, too.
Twigs snapped about a hundred yards to my left. I didn't jerk my head in that direction, but continued on my way as if I were out for a leisurely midnight stroll. I doubted our trespasser would fall for the act, but he had to be somewhat stupid or he wouldn't have attacked Annette while Bones was within striking distance. No Master vampire worth their fangs would stand for that.
More crackling noises sounded, too close for me to pretend not to hear them anymore. I turned in that direction, widening my eyes as if I hadn't already noticed the shadowy figure lurking behind the trees.
"Is someone there?" I called out, edging my tone with worry.
Laughter rolled across the cold night air. "You'd make a terrible horror movie heroine. You neglected to hunch your shoulders, clutch your coat, and bite your bottom lip ever so tremulously."
His accent was English, and his manner of speaking sounded more like Spade and Annette's aristocratic dialect than Bones and Ian's less formal vernacular. Shoulder length blond hair caught the moonlight as he stepped out from behind the trees.
It wasn't his looks that made me stare, though the vampire's chiseled cheekbones and finely sculpted features reminded me of Bones's flawless beauty. Or his height, and he had to be at least six two. It was his shirt. Lace spilled out from under his coat sleeves to almost cover his hands. More of that frothy white stuff gathered at his neck and hung midway down his chest. I almost forgot to scan him for weapons, it was so distracting.
"Are you serious?" I couldn't help but blurt. "Because Ru Paul would think twice before wearing that in public."
His smile showed white teeth without any hint of fang. "A nod to my heritage. I drew the line at the tights, though, as you can see."
He wore black jeans, so yes, far more modern than his top. The jeans also showed off the silver knife strapped to the vampire's thigh, but aside from a long wooden walking stick, that was the only visible weapon he carried. Didn't mean it was the only weapon he had; all my best stuff was hidden, too.
"Let me guess. You're lost?"
I started to close the distance between us. Although he didn't have a speck of blood on him, chances were, I was looking at Annette's attacker. His aura marked him as a couple hundred years old, but I wasn't afraid. Unless he was cloaking his power, he wasn't a Master, which meant I could wipe the floor with him.
The vampire appraised me in the same way I looked him over; thorough, assessing, and unafraid. All the while, that little smirk never left his face.
"Beautiful, aren't you?" he commented.
Something about him seemed familiar even though I was sure we'd never met. His cockiness would certainly make him memorable.
"So, you want to talk more?" I went on. "Or should I just start whipping your ass for trespassing and probable assault?"
I was now close enough that I could see his eyes were the color of blueberries, but he didn't react in anger. Instead, his grin widened.
"If you weren't my relation, I'd be tempted to take you up on your flirting."
The idiot thought I was hitting on him? That annoyed me into missing the first part of his sentence, but then I froze.
"What do you mean, relation?"
The only family I had above ground consisted of an imprisoned vampire father, a ghostly uncle, and a newly-undead mother. Yet the conviction in his tone and the steady way he held my gaze had me wondering if he was telling the truth. Good Lord, was it possible that my father wasn't the only vampire in my family ancestry?
He traced a line in the dry leaves with that long stick, his brow arching in challenge.
"Haven't figured it out yet?" He gave a mock sigh. "Thought out of everyone, you'd be most attuned to the similarities, but appears not."
Word games weren't the right move with me. I gave his long blond locks and intentionally outdated shirt a withering glance. "If you're trying to double as Lestat, then sure, you nailed it with the similarities."
He snorted. "Thick little kitten, aren't you?"
Something dark dropped down behind him, but before the vampire could whirl around to defend himself, he was enveloped in a punishing embrace. Moonlight glinted off the blade Bones held to the vampire's chest.
"No one calls my wife that but me," he said in a deadly silken voice.
The vampire twisted in a futile attempt to free himself, but iron bars would've been easier to pry off. His thrashing drove the tip of Bones's knife into his chest, darkening that white lacy shirt with crimson. More struggling would only shove the blade deeper, and if that silver twisted in his heart, the vampire would be dead the permanent way. He stilled, craning his neck to peer back at the man restraining him.
In that moment, seeing their faces so close together, the first inkling of realization slammed into me. It seemed impossible, but...
"Bones, don't hurt him!" I said, reeling at the implications. "I-I think maybe this isn't about Annette's attack."
The vampire shot me an approving look. "Not so thick after all, are you?"
Bones didn't move the blade, but his hand tightened around the hilt of the knife. "Insult her again and those will be your last words."
A pained laugh came out of the vampire. "Here I thought teasing one's relation was normal."
"Relation?" Bones scoffed. "You're claiming to be a member of her family?"
"Not by blood, but by marriage," the vampire said, drawing each word out. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wraith, and I'm your brother."
About the Author
Jeaniene Frost is the New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling author of the Night Huntress series and the Night Huntress World novels. To date, foreign rights for her novels have sold to seventeen different countries. Jeaniene lives in North Carolina with her husband Matthew, who long ago accepted that she swears like a sailor, rarely cooks, and always sleeps in on the weekends.
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A QUESTIONABLE CLIENTIlona Andrews
The problem with leucrocotta blood is that it stinks to high heaven. It's also impossible to get off your boots, particularly if the leucrocotta condescended to void its anal glands on you right before you chopped its head off.
I sat on the bench in the Mercenary Guild locker room and pondered my noxious footwear. The boots were less than a year old. And I didn't have money to buy a new pair.
"Tomato juice, Kate," one of the mercs offered. "Will take it right out."
Now he'd done it. I braced myself.
A woman in the corner shook her head. "That's for skunks. Try baking soda."
"You have to go scientific about it. Two parts hydrogen peroxide to four parts water."
"A quart of water and a tablespoon of ammonia."
"What you need to do is piss on it..."
Every person in the locker room knew my boots were shot. Unfortunately, stain removal methods was one of those troublesome subjects somewhere between relationship issues and mysterious car noises. Everybody was an expert, everybody had a cure, and they all fell over themselves to offer their advice.
The electric bulbs blinked and faded. Magic flooded the world in a silent rush, smothering technology. Twisted tubes of feylanterns ignited with pale blue on the walls as the charged air inside them interacted with magic. A nauseating stench, reminiscent of a couple of pounds of shrimp left in the sun for a week, erupted from my boots. There were collective grunts of "Ugh" and "Oh God," and then everybody decided to give me lots of personal space.
We lived in a post-Shift world. One moment magic dominated, fueling spells and giving power to monsters and the next it vanished as abruptly as it appeared. Cars started, electricity flowed, and mages became easy prey to a punk with a gun. Nobody could predict when magic waves would come or how long they would last. That's why I carried a sword. It always worked.
Mark appeared in the doorway. Mark was the Guild's equivalent of middle management, and he looked the part - his suit was perfectly clean and cost more than I made in three months, his dark hair was professionally trimmed, and his hands showed no calluses. In the crowd of working-class thugs, he stood out like a sore thumb and was proud of it, which earned him the rank and file's undying hatred.
Mark's expressionless stare fastened on me. "Daniels, the clerk has a gig ticket for you."
Usually the words "gig ticket" made my eyes light up. I needed money. I always needed money. The Guild zoned the jobs, meaning that each merc had his own territory. If a job fell in your territory, it was legitimately yours. My territory was near Savannah, basically in the sparsely populated middle of nowhere, and good gigs didn't come my way too often. The only reason I ended up in Atlanta this time was that my part-time partner in crime, Jim, needed help clearing a pack of grave-digging leucrocottas from Westview Cemetery. He'd cut me in on his gig.
Under normal circumstances I would've jumped on the chance to earn extra cash, but I had spent most of the last twenty four hours awake and chasing hyena-sized creatures armed with badgerlike jaws full of extremely sharp teeth. And Jim bailed on me midway through it. Some sort of Pack business.
That's what I get for pairing with a werejaguar.
I was tired, dirty, and hungry, and my boots stank.
"I just finished a job."
"It's a blue gig."
Blue gig meant double rate.
Mac, a huge hulk of a man, shook his head, presenting me with a view of his mangled left ear. "Hell, if she doesn't want it, I'll take it."
"No, you won't. She's licensed for bodyguard detail and you aren't."
I bloody hated bodyguard detail. On regular jobs, I had to depend only on myself. But bodyguard detail was a couple's kind of dance. You had to work with the body you guarded, and in my experience, bodies proved uncooperative.
"Why me?"
Mark shrugged. "Because I have no choice. I have Rodriguez and Castor there now, but they just canceled on me. If you don't take the gig, I'll have to track down someone who will. My pain, your gain."
Canceled wasn't good. Rodriguez was a decent mage and Castor was tough in a fight. They wouldn't bail from a well-paying job unless it went sour.
"I need someone there right now. Go there, babysit the client through the night, and in the morning I'll have a replacement lined up. In or out, Daniels? It's a high-profile client, and I don't like to keep him waiting."
The gig smelled bad. "How much?"
"Three grand."
Someone whistled. Three grand for a night of work. I'd be insane to pass on it. "In."
"Good."
I started to throw my stink-bomb boots into the locker but stopped myself. I had paid a lot for them and they should have lasted for another year at least, but if I put them into my locker, it would smell forever. Sadly the boots were ruined. I tossed them into the trash, pulled on my old spare pair, grabbed my sword, and headed out of the locker room to get the gig ticket from the clerk.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
When I rode into Atlanta, the magic was down, so I had taken Betsi, my old dented Subaru. With magic wave in full swing, my gasoline-guzzling car was about as mobile as a car-size rock, but since I was technically doing the Guild a favor, the clerk provided me with a spare mount. Her name was Peggy, and judging by the wear on her incisors, she'd started her third decade some years ago. Her muzzle had gone grey, her tail and mane had thinned to stringy tendrils, and she moved with ponderous slowness. I'd ridden her for the first fifteen minutes, listening to her sigh, and then guilt got the better of me, and I decided to walk the rest of the way. I didn't have to go far. According to the directions, Champion Heights was only a couple miles away. An extra ten minutes wouldn't make that much difference.
Around me a broken city struggled to shrug off winter, fighting the assault of another cold February night. Husks of once mighty skyscrapers stabbed through the melting snowdrifts encrusted with dark ice. Magic loved to feed on anything technologically complex, but tall office towers proved particularly susceptible to magic-induced erosion. Within a couple of years of the first magic wave they shuddered, crumbled, and fell one by one, like giants on sand legs, spilling mountains of broken glass and twisted guts of metal framework onto the streets.
The city grew around the high-tech corpses. Stalls and small shops took the place of swanky coffee joints and boutiques. Wood and brick houses, built by hand and no taller than four floors high, replaced the high rises. Busy streets, once filled with cars and busses, now channeled a flood of horses, mules, and camels. During rush hour the stench alone put hair on your chest. But now, with the last of the sunset dying slowly above the horizon, the city lay empty. Anyone with a crumb of sense hurried home. The night belonged to monsters, and monsters were always hungry.
The wind picked up, driving dark clouds across the sky and turning my bones into icicles. It would storm soon. Here's hoping Champion Heights, my client's humble abode, had some place I could hide Peggy from the sleet.
We picked our way through Buckhead, Peggy's hooves making loud clopping noises in the twilight silence of the deserted streets. The night worried me little. I looked too poor and too mean to provide easy pickings and nobody in their right mind would try to steal Peggy. Unless a gang of soap-making bandits lurked about, we were safe enough. I checked the address again. Smack in the middle of Buckhead. The clerk said I couldn't miss it. Pretty much a guarantee I'd get lost.
I turned the corner and stopped.
A high rise towered over the ruins. It shouldn't have existed but there it was, a brick-and-concrete tower silhouetted against the purple sky. At least fifteen floors, maybe more. Pale tendrils of haze clung to it. It was so tall that the top floor of it still reflected the sunset, while the rest of the city lay steeped in shadow.
"Pinch me, Peggy."
Peggy sighed, mourning the fact that she was paired with me.
I petted her grey muzzle. "Ten to one, that's Champion Heights. Why isn't it laying in shambles?"
Peggy snorted.
"You're right. We need a closer look."
We wound through the labyrinth of streets, closing in on the tower. My paper said the client's name was Saiman. No indication if it was his last or first name. Perhaps he was like Batman, one of a kind. Of course, Batman wouldn't have to hire bodyguards.
"You have to ask yourself, Peggy, who would pay three grand for a night of work and why. I bet living in that tower isn't cheap, so Saiman has money. Contrary to popular opinion, people who have money refuse to part with it, unless they absolutely have to do it. Three grand means he's in big trouble and we're walking into something nasty."
Finally we landed in a vast parking lot, empty, save for a row of cars near the front. Grey Volvo, black Cadillac, even a sleek gunmetal Lamborghini. Most vehicles sported a bloated hood - built to accommodate a charged water engine. The water-engine cars functioned during magic waves by using magic-infused water instead of gasoline. Unfortunately, they took a good fifteen minutes of hard chanting to start and when they did spring into action, they attained a maximum speed of forty-five miles per hour while growling, snarling, and thundering loud enough to force a deaf man to file a noise complaint.
A large white sign waited past the cars. A black arrow pointed to the right. Above the arrow in black letters was written "Please stable your mounts." I looked to the right and saw a large stable, and a small guardhouse next to it.
It took me a full five minutes to convince the guards I wasn't a serial killer in disguise, but finally Peggy relaxed in a comfortable stall, and I climbed the stone stairs to Champion Heights. As I looked, the brick wall of the highrise swam out of focus, shimmered, and turned into a granite crag.
Whoa.
I squinted at the wall and saw the faint outline of bricks within the granite. Interesting.
The stairs brought me to the glass-and-steel front of the building. The same haze that cloaked the building clouded the glass, but not enough to obscure a thick metal grate barring the vestibule. Beyond the grate, a guard sat behind a round counter, between an Uzi and a crossbow. The Uzi looked well maintained. The crossbow bore the Hawkeye logo on its stock - a round bird-of-prey eye with a golden iris - which meant its prong was steel and not cheap aluminum. Probably upward of two hundred pounds of draw weight. At this distance, it would take out a rhino, let alone me.
The guard gave me an evil eye. I leaned to the narrow metal grille and tried to broadcast "trustworthy."
"I'm here for one fifty-eight." I pulled out my merc card and held it to the glass.
"Code, please."
Code? What code? "Nobody said anything about a code."
The guard leveled a crossbow at me.
"Very scary," I told him. "One small problem. You shoot me and the tenant in one fifty-eight won't live through the night. I'm not a threat to you. I'm a bodyguard on the job from the Mercenary Guild. If you call to one fifty eight and check, they'll tell you they're expecting me."
The guard rose and disappeared into a hallway to the right. A long minute passed. Finally he emerged, looking sour, and pushed a button. The metal grate slid aside.
I walked in. The floor and walls were polished red granite. The air smelled of expensive perfume.
"Fifteenth floor," the guard said, nodding at the elevator in the back of the room.
"The magic is up." The elevator was likely dead.
"Fifteenth floor."
Oy. I walked up to the elevator and pushed the Up button. The metal doors slid open. I got in and selected the fifteenth floor, the elevator closed and a moment later faint purring announced the cabin rising. It's good to be rich.
The elevator spat me out into a hallway lined with a luxurious green carpet. I plodded through it past the door marked 158 to the end of the hallway to the door under the EXIT sign and opened it. Stairs. Unfortunately in good repair. The door opened from the inside of the hallway, but it didn't lock. No way to jam it.
The hallway was T shaped with only one exit, which meant that potential attackers could come either through the elevator shaft or up the stairs.
I went up to 158 and knocked.
The door shot open. Gina Castor's dark eyes glared at me. An AK-47 hung off her shoulder. She held a black duffel in one hand and her sword in the other. "What took you so long?"
"Hello to you, too."
She pushed past me, the thin slightly stooped Rodriguez following her. "He's all yours."
I caught the door before it clicked shut. "Where is the client?"
"Chained to the bed." They headed to the elevator.
"Why?"
Castor flashed her teeth at me. "You'll figure it out."
The elevator's door slid open, they ducked in, and a moment later I was alone in the hallway, holding the door open like an idiot. Peachy.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
I stepped inside and shut the door. A faint spark of magic shot through the metal box of the card-reader lock. I touched it. The lock was a sham. The door was protected by a ward. I pushed harder. My magic crashed against the invisible wall of the spell and ground to a halt. An expensive ward, too. Good. Made my job a hair easier.
I slid the dead bolt shut and turned. I stood in a huge living room, big enough to contain most of my house. A marble counter ran along the wall on my left, sheltering a bar with glass shelves offering everything from Bombay Sapphire to French wines. A large steel fridge sat behind the bar. White, criminally plush carpet, black walls, steel and glass furniture, and beyond it all an enormous floor to ceiling window, presenting the vista of the ruined city, a deep darkness, lit here and there by the pale blue of fey lanterns.
I stayed away from the window and trailed the wall, punctuated by three doors. The first opened into a laboratory: flame-retardant table and counters supporting row upon row of equipment. I recognized a magic scanner, a computer, and a spectrograph, but the rest was beyond me. No client.
I tried the second door and found a large room. Gloom pooled in the corners. A huge platform bed occupied most of the hardwood floor. Something lay on the bed, hidden under black sheets.
"Saiman?"
No answer.
Why me?
The wall to the left of the bed was all glass, and beyond the glass, very far below, stretched a very hard parking lot, bathed in the glow of feylanterns.
God, fifteen floors was high.
I pulled my saber from the back sheath and padded across the floor to the bed.
The body under the sheets didn't move.
Step.
Another step.
In my head, the creature hiding under the sheets lunged at me, knocking me through the window in an explosion of glass shards to plunge far below... Fatigue was messing with my head.
Another step.
I nudged the sheet with my sword, peeling it back gently.
A man rested on the black pillow. He was bald. His head was lightly tanned, his face neither handsome nor ugly, his features well-shaped and pleasant. Perfectly average. His shoulders were nude - he was probably down to his underwear or naked under the sheet.
"Saiman?" I asked softly.
The man's eyelids trembled. Dark eyes stared at me, luminescent with harsh predatory intelligence. A warning siren went off in my head. I took a small step back and saw the outline of several chains under the sheet. You've got to be kidding me. They didn't just chain him to the bed, they wrapped him up like a Christmas present. He couldn't even twitch.
"Good evening," the man said, his voice quiet and cultured.
"Good evening."
"You're my new bodyguard, I presume."
I nodded. "Call me Kate."
"Kate. What a lovely name. Please forgive me. Normally I would rise to greet a beautiful woman, but I'm afraid I'm indisposed at the moment."
I pulled back a little more of the sheet revealing an industrial-size steel chain. "I can see that."
"Perhaps I could impose on you to do me the great favor of removing my bonds?"
"Why did Rodriguez and Castor chain you?" And where the hell did they find a chain of this size?
A slight smile touched his lips. "I'd prefer not to answer that question."
"Then we're in trouble. Clients get restrained when they interfere with the bodyguards' ability to keep them safe. Since you won't tell me why the previous team decided to chain you, I can't let you go."
The smile grew wider. "I see your point."
"Does this mean you're ready to enlighten me?"
"I'm afraid not."
I nodded. "I see. Well then, I'll clear the rest of the apartment, and then I'll come back and we'll talk some more."
"Do you prefer brunets or blonds?"
"What?"
The sheet shivered.
"Quickly, Kate. Brunettes or blonds? Pick one."
Odd bulges strained the sheet. I grabbed the covers and jerked them back.
Saiman lay naked, his body pinned to the bed by the chain. His stomach distended between two loops, huge and bloated. Flesh bulged and crawled under his skin, as if his body were full of writhing worms.
"Blond, I'd say," Saiman said.
He groaned, his back digging into the sheets. The muscles under his skin boiled. Bones stretched. Ligaments twisted, contorting his limbs. Acid squirted into my throat. I gagged, trying not to vomit.
His body stretched, twisted, and snapped into a new shape: lean, with crisp definition. His jaw widened, his eyes grew larger, his nose gained a sharp cut. Cornsilk blond hair sprouted on his head and reached down to his shoulders. Indigo flooded his irises. A new man looked at me, younger by about five years, taller, leaner, with a face that was heartbreakingly perfect. Above his waist, he was Adonis. Below his ribs, his body degenerated into a bloated stomach. He looked pregnant.
"You wouldn't tell me what you preferred," he said mournfully, his pitch low and husky. "I had to improvise."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
"What are you?" I kept my sword between me and him.
"Does it really matter?"
"Yes, it does." When people said shapeshifter, they usually meant a person afflicted with Lyc-V, the virus that gave its victim the ability to shift into an animal. I'd never seen one who could freely change its human form.
Saiman made a valiant effort to shrug. Hard to shrug with several pounds of chains on your shoulders, but he managed to look nonchalant doing it.
"I am me."
Oh boy. "Stay here."
"Where would I go?"
I left the bedroom and checked the rest of the apartment. The only remaining room contained a large shower stall and a giant bathtub. No kitchen. Perhaps he had food delivered.
Fifteenth floor. At least one guard downstairs, bullet-resistant glass, metal grates. The place was a fortress. Yet he hired bodyguards at exorbitant prices. He expected his castle to be breached.
I headed to the bar grabbed a glass from under the counter, filled it with water, and took it to Saiman. Changing shape took energy. If he was anything like other shapeshifters, he was dying of thirst and hunger right about now.
Saiman's gaze fastened on the glass. "Delightful."
I let him drink. He drained the glass in long, thirsty swallows.
"How many guards are on duty downstairs?"
"Three."
"Are they employed by the building owners directly?"
Saiman smiled. "Yes. They're experienced and well paid and they won't hesitate to kill."
So far so good. "When you change shape, do you reproduce internal organs as well?"
"Only if I plan to have intercourse."
Oh goodie. "Are you pregnant?"
Saiman laughed softly.
"I need to know if you're going to go into labor." Because that would just be a cherry on the cake of this job.
"You're a most peculiar woman. No, I'm most definitely not pregnant. I'm male, and while I may construct a vaginal canal and a uterus on occasion, I've never had cause to recreate ovaries. And If I did, I suspect they would be sterile. Unlike the male of the species, women produce all of their gametes during gestation, meaning that when a female infant is born, she will have in her ovaries all of the partially developed eggs she will ever have. The ovaries cannot facilitate production of new eggs, only the maturation of existing ones. The magic is simply not deep enough for me to overcome this hurdle. Not yet."
Thank Universe for small favors. "Who am I protecting you from and why?"
"I'm afraid I have to keep that information to myself as well."
Why did I take this job again? Ah yes, a pile of money. "Withholding this information diminishes my ability to guard you."
He tilted his head, looking me over. "I'm willing to take that chance."
"I'm not. It also puts my life at a greater risk."
"You're well compensated for that risk."
I repressed the urge to brain him with something heavy. Too bad there was no kitchen - a cast-iron frying pan would do the job.
"I see why the first team bailed."
"Oh, it was the woman," Saiman said helpfully. "She had difficulty with my metamorphosis. I believe she referred to me as 'abomination'."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Let's try simple questions. Do you expect us to be attacked tonight?"
"Yes."
I figured as much. "With magic or brute force?"
"Both."
"Is it a hit for hire?"
Saiman shook his head. "No."
Well, at least something went my way: amateurs were easier to deal with than contract killers.
"It's personal. I can tell you this much: the attackers are part of a religious sect. They will do everything in their power to kill me, including sacrificing their own lives."
And we just drove off a cliff in a runaway buggy. "Are they magically adept?"
"Very."
I leaned back. "So let me summarize: You're a target of magical kamikaze fanatics, you won't tell me who they are, why they're after you, or why you have been restrained?"
"Precisely. Could I trouble you for a sandwich? I'm famished."
Dear God, I had a crackpot for a client. "A sandwich?"
"Prosciutto and Gouda on sourdough bread, please. A tomato and red onion would be quite lovely as well."
"Sounds delicious."
"Feel free to have one."
"I tell you what, since you refuse to reveal anything that might make my job even a smidgeon easier, how about I make a delicious prosciutto sandwich and taunt you with it until you tell me what I want to know?"
Saiman laughed.
An eerie sound came from the living room - a light click, as if something with long sharp claws crawled across metal.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
I put my finger to my lips, freed my saber, and padded out into the living room.
The room lay empty. No intruders.
I stood very still, trying to fade into the black walls.
Moments dripped by.
A small noise came from the left. It was a hesitant, slow clicking, as if some creature slunk in the distance, slowly putting one foot before the other.
Click .
Definitely a claw.
Click .
I scrutinized the left side of the room. Nothing moved.
Click. Click, click .
Closer this time. Fear skittered down my spine. Fear was good. It would keep me sharp. I kept still. Where are you, you sonovabitch...
Click to the right, and almost immediately a quiet snort to the left. Now we had two invisible intruders. Because one wasn't hard enough.
An odd scent nipped at my nostrils, a thick, slightly bitter herbal odor. I'd smelled it once before but I had no clue where or when.
Claws scraped to the right and to the left of me now. More than two. A quiet snort to the right. Another in the corner. Come out to play. Come on, beastie.
Claws raked metal directly in front of me. There was nothing there but that huge window and sloping ceiling above it. I looked up. Glowing green eyes peered at me through the grate of the air duct in the ceiling.
Shivers sparked down my back.
The eyes stared at me, heated with madness.
The screws in the air duct cover turned to the left. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. Smart critter.
The grate fell onto the soft carpet. The creature leaned forward slowly, showing me a long conical head. The herbal scent grew stronger now, as if I'd taken a handful of absinthe wormwood and stuck it up my nose.
Long black claws clutched the edge of the air duct. The beast rocked, revealing its shoulders sheathed in shaggy, hunter green fur.
Bingo. An endar. Six legs, each armed with wicked black claws; preternaturally fast; equipped with an outstanding sense of smell and a big mouth, which hid a tongue lined with hundreds of serrated teeth. One lick, and it would scrape the flesh off my bones in a very literal way.
The endars were peaceful creatures. The green fur wasn't fur at all; it was moss that grew from their skin. They lived underneath old oaks, rooted to the big trees in a state of quiet hibernation, absorbing their nutrients and making rare excursions to the surface to lick the bark and feed on lichens. They stirred from their rest so rarely, that pagan slavs thought they fed on air.
Someone had poured blood under this endar's oak. The creature had absorbed it and the blood had driven it crazy. It had burrowed to the surface, where it swarmed with its fellows. Then the same someone, armed with a hell of a lot of magic, had herded this endar and its buddies to this highrise and released them into the ventilation system so they would find Saiman and rip him apart. They couldn't be frightened off. They couldn't be stopped. They would kill anything with a pulse to get to their target and when the target was dead, they would have to be eliminated. There was no coming back from endar madness.
Only a handful of people knew how to control endars.
Saiman had managed to piss off the Russians. It's never good to piss off the Russians. That was just basic common sense. My father was Russian, but I doubted they would cut me any slack just because I could understand their curses.
The endar gaped at me with its glowing eyes. Yep, mad as a hatter. I'd have to kill every last one of them.
"Well, come on. Bring it."
The endar's mouth gaped. It let out a piercing screech, like a circular saw biting into the wood, and charged.
I swung Slayer. The saber's blade sliced into flesh and the beast crashed to the floor. Thick green blood stained Saiman's white carpet.
The three other duct covers fell one by one. A stream of green bodies charged toward me. I swung my sword, cleaving the first body in two. It was going to be a long night.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
The last of the endars was on the smaller side. Little bigger than a cat. I grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and took it back into the bedroom.
Saiman smiled at my approach. "I take it everything went well?"
"I redecorated."
He arched his eyebrow again. Definitely mimicking me. "Oh?"
"Your new carpet is a lovely emerald color."
"I can assure you that carpet is the least of my worries."
"You're right." I brought the endar closer. The creature saw Saiman and jerked spasmodically. Six legs whipped the air, claws out, ready to rend and tear. The beast's mouth gaped, releasing a wide tongue studded with rows and rows of conical teeth.
"You provoked the volhvs." It was that or the Russian witches. I bet on the volhvs. The witches would've cursed us by now.
"Indeed."
"The volhvs are bad news for a number of reasons. They serve pagan Slavic gods, and they have thousands of years of magic tradition to draw on. They're at least as powerful as Druids, but unlike Druids, who are afraid to sneeze the wrong way or someone might accuse them of bringing back human sacrifices, the volhvs don't give a damn. They won't stop either. They don't like using the endars, because the endars nourish the forest with their magic. Whatever you did really pissed them off."
Saiman pondered me as if I were some curious bug. "I wasn't aware that the Guild employed anyone with an education."
"I'll hear it. All of it."
"No." He shook his head. "I do admire your diligence and expertise. I don't want you to think it's gone unnoticed."
I dropped the endar onto his stomach. The beast clawed at the sheet. Saiman screamed. I grabbed the creature and jerked it up. The beast dragged the sheet with it, tearing it to shreds. Small red scratches marked Saiman's blob of a stomach.
"I'll ask again. What did you do to infuriate the Russians? Consider your answer carefully, because the next time I drop this guy, I'll be slower picking him back up."
Saiman's face quivered with rage. "You're my bodyguard."
"You can file a complaint, if you survive. You're putting both of us in danger by withholding information. See, if I walk, I just miss out on some money; you lose your life. I have no problem with leaving you here and the Guild can stick its thumb up its ass and twirl for all I care. The only thing that keeps me protecting you is professional pride. I hate bodyguard detail, but I'm good at it, and I don't like to lose a body. It's in your best interests to help me do my job. Now, I'll count to three. On three I drop Fluffy here and let it go to town on your gut. He really wants whatever you're hiding in there."
Saiman stared at me.
"One. Two. Th-"
"Very well."
I reached into my backpack and pulled out a piece of wire. Normally I used it for trip traps, but it would make a decent leash. Two minutes later the endar was secured to the dresser and I perched on the corner of Saiman's bed.
"Are you familiar with the legend of Booyan Island?"
I nodded. "It's a mythical island far in the Ocean, behind the Hvalynskii Sea. It's a place of deep magic where a number of legendary creatures and items are located: Alatyr, the father of all stones; the fiery pillar; the Drevo-Doob, the World Oak; the cave where the legendary sword Kladenets is hidden; the Raven prophet, and so on. It's the discount warehouse of Russian legends. Any time the folkloric heroes needed a magic object, they made a trip to it."
"Let's concentrate on the tree," Saiman said.
I knew Slavic mythology well enough, but I hadn't had to use it for a while and I was a bit rusty. "It's a symbol of nature. Creature of the earth at its roots, the serpent, the frog and so on. There is a raven with a prophet gift in the branches. Some myths say that there are iron chains wrapped around the tree's trunk. A black cat walks the chain, telling stories and fables..."
Saiman nodded.
Oh crap. "It's that damn cat, isn't it?"
"The oak produces an acorn once every seven years. Seven months, seven days, and seven hours after the acorn falls from the tree, it will crack and grow into the World Oak. In effect, the tree manifests at the location of the acorn for the period of seven minutes."
I frowned. "Let me guess, you stole the acorn from the Russians and swallowed it."
Saiman nodded.
"Why? Are you eager to hear a bedtime story?"
"The cat possesses infinite knowledge. Seven minutes is time enough to ask and hear an answer to one question. Only the owner of the acorn can ask the question."
I shook my head. "Saiman, nothing is free. You have to pay for everything, knowledge included. What will it cost you to ask a question?"
"The price is irrelevant if I get an answer." Saiman smiled.
I sighed. "Answer my question: Why do smart people tend to be stupid?"
"Because we think we know better. We think that our intellect affords us special privileges and lets us beat the odds. That's why talented mathematicians try to defraud casinos and young brilliant mages make bargains with forces beyond their control."
Well, he answered the question.
"When is the acorn due for its big kaboom?"
"In four hours and forty seven minutes."
"The volhvs will tear this highrise apart stone by stone to get it back, and I'm your last line of defense?"
"That's an accurate assessment. I did ask for the best person available."
I sighed. "Still want that sandwich?"
"Very much."
I headed to the door.
"Kate?"
"Yes?"
"The endar?"
I turned to him. "Why were you chained?"
Saiman grimaced. "The acorn makes it difficult to control my magic. It forces me to continuously change shape. Most of the time I'm able to keep the changes subtle, but once in a while the acorn causes contortions. Gina Castor walked in on me during such a moment. I'm afraid I was convulsing, so my recollection may be somewhat murky, but I do believe I had at least one partially formed breast and three arms. She overreacted. Odd, considering her profile."
"Her profile?"
"I studied my bodyguards very carefully," Saiman said. "I handpicked three teams. The first refused to take the job, the second was out due to injuries. Castor and Rodriguez were my third choice."
I went back to the bed and ducked under it. They'd chained him with a small padlock. Lockpicking wasn't my strong suit. I looked around and saw the small key on the dresser. It took me a good five minutes to unwrap him.
"Thank you." He rose, rubbing his chest, marked by red pressure lines. "May I ask why?"
"Nobody should die chained to the bed."
Saiman stretched. His body swelled, twisted, growing larger, gaining breadth and muscle. I made a valiant effort to not vomit.
Saiman's body snapped. A large, perfectly sculpted male looked at me. Soft brown hair framed a masculine face. He would make any bodybuilder gym proud. Except for the bloated gut.
"Is he preferable to the previous attempt?" Saiman asked.
"There is more of you to guard now. Other than that, it makes no difference to me."
I headed into the living room. He followed me, swiping a luxurious robe off a chair.
We stepped into the living room. Saiman stopped.
The corpses of endars had melted into puddles of green. Thin stalks of emerald-green moss sprouted from the puddles, next to curly green shoots of ferns and tiny young herbs.
"The endars nourish the forest," I told him.
He indicated the completely green carpet with his hand. "How many were there?"
"A few. I lost count."
Saiman's sharp eyes regarded my face. "You're lying. You know the exact number."
"Thirty seven."
I zeroed in on the fridge. No telling when the next attack would come and I was starving. You can do without sleep or without food, but not without both and sleep wasn't an option.
Saiman trailed me, taking the seat on the outer side of the counter. "Do you prefer women?"
"No."
He frowned, belting the robe. "It's the stomach, isn't it?"
I raided the fridge. He had enough deli meat to feed an army. I spread it out on the bar's counter. "What do you do for a living, Saimain?"
"I collect information and use it to further my interests."
"It seems to pay well." I nodded to indicate the apartment.
"It does. I also possess an exhaustive knowledge of various magic phenomena. I consult various parties. My fee varies between thirty-six and thirty-nine hundred dollars, depending on the job and the client."
"Thirty six hundred per job?" I bit into my sandwich. Mmm, salami.
"Per hour."
I choked on my food. He looked at me with obvious amusement.
"The term 'highway robbery' comes to mind," I managed finally.
"Oh, but I'm exceptionally good at what I do. Besides, the victims of highway robbery have no choice in the matter. I assure you, I don't coerce my clients, Kate."
"I'm sure. How did we even get to this point? The stratospheric fee ruined my train of thought."
"You stated that you prefer men to women."
I nodded. "Suppose you get a particularly sensitive piece of information. Let's say a business tip. If you act on the tip, you could make some money. If you sell it, you could make more money. If both you and your buyer act on the tip, you both would make money, but the return for each of you would be significantly diminished. Your move?"
"Either sell the information or act on it. Not both."
"Why?"
Saiman shrugged. "The value of the information increases with its exclusivity. A client buying such knowledge has an expectation of such exclusivity. It would be unethical to undermine it."
"It would be unethical for me to respond to your sexual overtures. For the duration of the job, you're a collection of arms and legs which I have to keep safe. I'm most effective if I'm not emotionally involved with you on any level. To be blunt, I'm doing my best to regard you as a precious piece of porcelain I have to keep out of harm's way."
"But you do find this shape sexually attractive?"
"I'm not going to answer this question. If you pester me, I will chain you back to the bed."
Saiman raised his arm, flexing a spectacular biceps. "This shape has a lot of muscle mass."
I nodded. "In a bench pressing contest you would probably win. But we're not bench pressing. You might be stronger, but I'm well trained. If you do want to try me, you're welcome to it. Just as long as we agree that once your battered body is chained safely in your bed, I get to say, 'I told you so.'"
Saiman arched his eyebrows. "Try it?"
"And stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Stop mimicking my gestures."
He laughed. "You're a most peculiar person, Kate. I find myself oddly fascinated. You have obvious skill." He indicated the budding forest in his living room. "And knowledge to back it up. Why aren't you among the Guild's top performers?"
Because being in top anything means greater risk of discovery. I was hiding in plain sight and doing a fairly good job of it. But he didn't need to know that. "I don't spend much time in Atlanta. My territory is in the Lowcountry. Nothing much happens there, except for an occasional sea serpent eating shrimp out of the fishing nets."
Saiman's sharp eyes narrowed. "So why not move up to the city? Better jobs, better money, more recognition?"
"I like my house where it is."
Something bumped behind the front door. I swiped Slayer off the counter. "Bedroom. Now."
"Can I watch?"
I pointed with the sword to the bedroom.
Saiman gave an exaggerated sigh. "Very well."
He went to the bedroom. I padded to the door and leaned against it, listening.
Quiet.
I waited, sword raised. Something waited out there in the hallway. I couldn't hear it, but I sensed it. It was there.
A quiet whimper filtered through the steel of the door. A sad, lost, feminine whimper, like an old woman crying quietly in mourning.
I held very still. The apartment felt stifling and crowded in. I would've given anything for a gulp of fresh air right about now.
Something scratched at the door. A low mutter floated through, whispered words unintelligible.
God, what was it with the air in this place? The place was stale and musty, like a tomb.
A feeling of dread flooded me. Something bad was in the apartment. It hid in the shadows under the furniture, in the cabinets, in the fridge. Fear squirmed through me. I pressed my back against the door, holding Slayer in front of me.
The creature behind the door scratched again, claws against the steel.
The walls closed in. I had to get away from this air. Somewhere out in the open. Somewhere where the wind blew under an open sky. Someplace with nothing to crowd me in.
I had to get out.
If I left, I risked Saiman's life. Outside the volhvs were waiting. I'd be walking right into their arms.
The shadows under the furniture grew longer, stretching toward me.
Get out. Get out now!
I bit my lip. A quick drop of blood burned on my tongue, the magic in it nipping at me. Clarity returned for a second and light dawned in my head. Badzula. Of course. The endars failed to rip us apart, so the volhvs went for plan B. If Muhammad won't go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Muhammad.
Saiman walked out of the bedroom. His eyes were glazed over.
"Saiman!"
"I must go," he said. "Must get out."
"No, you really must not." I sprinted to him.
"I must."
He headed to the giant window.
I kicked the back of his right knee. He folded. I caught him on the way down and spun him so he landed on his stomach. He sprawled among the ankle-tall ferns. I locked his left wrist and leaned on him, grinding all of my weight into his left shoulder.
"Badzula," I told him. "Belorussian creature. Looks like a middle-aged woman with droopy breasts, swaddled in a filthy blanket."
"I must get out." He tried to roll over, but I had him pinned.
"Focus, Saiman. Badzula - what's her power?"
"She incites people to vagrancy."
"That's right. And we can't be vagrants, because if we walk out of this building, both of us will be killed. We have to stay put."
"I don't think I can do it."
"Yes, you can. I'm not planning on getting up."
"I believe you're right." A small measure of rational thought crept into his voice. "I suppose the furniture isn't really trying to devour us."
"If it is, I'll chop it with my sword when it gets close."
"You can let me up now," he said.
"I don't think so."
We sat still. The air grew viscous like glue. I had to bite it to get any into my lungs.
Muscles crawled under me. Saiman couldn't get out of my hold so he decided to shift himself out.
"Do you stock herbs?"
"Yes," he said.
"Do you have water lily?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Laboratory, third cabinet."
"Good." I rolled off of him. I'd have only a second to do this and I had to do it precisely.
Saiman got up to his knees. As he rose, I threw a fast right hook. He never saw it coming and didn't brace himself. My fist landed on his jaw. His head snapped back. His eyes rolled over and he sagged down.
Lucky. I ran to the lab.
It took a hell of a lot of practice to knock someone out. You needed both speed and power to jolt the head enough to rattle the brain inside the skull but not cause permanent damage. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even try it, but these weren't normal circumstances. Walls were curving in to eat me.
If I did cause too much damage, he would fix it. Considering what he had done to his body so far, his regeneration would make normal shapeshifters jealous.
Third cabinet. I threw it open and scanned the glass jars. Dread mugged me like a sodden blanket. Ligularia dentata, Ligularia przewalski... Latin names, why me? Lilium pardalinum, Lobelia siphilitica. Come on, come on...Nymphaea odorata, pond lily. Also known to Russians as odolen-trava, the mermaid flower, an all-purpose pesticide against all things unclean. That would do.
I dashed to the door, twisting the lid off the jar. A grey powder filled it - ground lily petals, the most potent part of the flower. I slid open the lock. The ward drained down, and I jerked the door ajar.
Empty hallway greeted me. I hurled the jar and the powder into the hall. A woman wailed, smoke rose from thin air, and Badzula materialized in the middle of the carpet. Skinny, flabby, filthy, with breasts dangling to her waist like two empty bags, she tossed back grimy tangled hair and hissed at me, baring stumps of rotten teeth.
"That's nice. Fuck you, too."
I swung. It was textbook saber slash, diagonal, from left to right. I drew the entirety of the blade through the wound. Badzula's body toppled one way, her head rolled the other.
The weight dropped off my shoulders. Suddenly I could breathe and the building no longer seemed in imminent danger of collapsing and burying me alive.
I grabbed the head, tossed it into the elevator, dragged the body in there, sent the whole thing to the ground floor, sprinted back inside, and locked the door, reactivating the ward. The whole thing took five seconds.
On the floor, Saiman lay unmoving. I checked his pulse. Breathing. Good. I went back to the island. I deserved some coffee after this and I bet Saiman stocked the good stuff.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
I sat by the counter, sipping the best coffee I'd ever tasted, when the big screen TV on the wall lit up with fuzzy glow. Which was more than a smidgeon odd, considering that the magic was still up and the TV shouldn't have worked.
I took my coffee and my saber and went to sit on the couch, facing the TV. Saiman still sprawled unconscious on the floor.
The glow flared brighter, faded, flared brighter... In ancient times people used mirrors, but really any somewhat reflective surface would do. The dark TV screen was glossy enough.
The glow blazed and materialized into a blurry male. In his early twenties, dark hair, dark eyes.
The man looked at me. "You're the bodyguard." His voice carried a trace of Russian accent.
I nodded and slipped into Russian. "Yes."
"I don't know you. What you do makes no difference to me. We have this place surrounded. We go in in an hour. " He made a short chopping motion with his hand. "You're done."
"I'm shaking with fear. In fact, I may have to take a minute to get my shivers under control. " I drank my coffee.
The man shook his head. "You tell that paskuda, if he let Yulya go, I'll make sure you both walk out alive. You hear that? I don't know what he's got over my wife, but you tell him that. If he wants to live, he has to let her go. I'll be back in thirty minutes. You tell him. "
The screen faded.
And the plot thickens. I sighed and nudged Saiman with my boot. It took a couple of nudges, but finally he groaned and sat up.
"What happened?"
"You fell."
"Really? What did I fall into?"
"My fist."
"That explains the headache." Saiman looked at me. "This will never happen again. I want to be absolutely clear. Attempt this again and you're fired."
I wondered what would happen if I knocked him out again right there, just for kicks.
"Is that my arabica coffee?" he asked.
I nodded. "I will even let you have a cup if you answer my question."
Saiman arched an eyebrow. "Let? It's my coffee."
I saluted him with the mug. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."
He stared at me incredulously. "Ask."
"Are you holding a woman called Yulya hostage?"
Saiman blinked.
"Her husband is very upset and is offering to let us both go if we can produce Yulya for him. Unfortunately, he's lying and most likely we both would be killed once said Yulya is found. But if you're holding a woman hostage, you must tell me now."
"And if I was?" Saiman rubbed his jaw and sat in the chair opposite me.
"Then you'd have to release her immediately or I would walk. I don't protect kidnappers and I take a very dim view of violence toward civilians, men or women."
"You're a bewildering woman."
"Saiman, focus. Yulya?"
Saiman leaned back. "I can't produce Yulya. I am Yulya."
I suppose I should've seen that coming. "The man was under the impression he's married to her. What happened to the real Yulya?"
"There was never a real Yulya. I will tell you the whole story, but I must have coffee. And nutrients."
I poured him a cup of coffee. Saiman reached into the fridge and came up with a gallon of milk, a solid block of chocolate, and several bananas.
Chocolate was expensive as hell. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had some. If I survived this job, I'd buy a couple of truffles.
I watched Saiman load bananas and milk into a manual blender and crank the handle, cutting the whole thing into a coarse mess. Not the chocolate, not the chocolate... Yep, threw it in there too. What a waste.
He poured the concoction into a two quart jug and began chugging it. Shapeshifters did burn a ton of calories. I sighed, mourning the loss of the chocolate, and sipped my coffee. "Give."
"The man in question is the son of Pavel Semyonov. He's the premier volhv in the Russian community here. The boy's name is Evgenii and he's completely right, I did marry him, as Yulya, of course. The acorn was very well guarded and I needed a way in."
"Unbelievable."
Saiman smiled. Apparently he thought I'd paid him a compliment. "Are you familiar with the ritual of firing the arrow?"
"It's an archaic folkloric ritual. The shooter is blindfolded and spun around, so he blindly fires. The flight of the arrow foretells the correct direction of the object the person seeks. If a woman picks up the arrow, she and the shooter are fated to be together."
Saiman wiped his mouth. "I picked up the arrow. It took me five months from the arrow to the acorn."
"How long did it take you to con that poor guy into marriage?"
"Three months. The combination of open lust but withholding of actual sex really works wonders."
I shook my head. "Evgenii is in love with you. He thinks his wife is in danger. He's trying to rescue her."
Saiman shrugged. "I had to obtain the acorn. I could say that he's young and resilient, but really his state of mind is the least of my concerns."
"You're a terrible human being."
"I beg to differ. All people are driven by their primary selfishness. I'm simply more honest than most. Furthermore, he had the use of a beautiful woman, created to his precise specifications, for two months. I did my research into his sexual practices quite thoroughly, to the point of sleeping with him twice as a prostitute to make sure I knew his preferences."
"If we get out of this, I need to remember never to work for you again."
Saiman smiled. "But you will. If the price is right."
"No."
"Anyone will work for anyone and anyone will sleep with anyone, if the price is right and the partnership is attractive enough. Suppose I invited you to spend a week here with me. Luxurious clothes. Beautiful shoes." He looked at my old boots, which were in danger of falling apart. "Magnificent meals. All the chocolate you could ever want."
So he'd caught me.
"All that for the price of having sex with me. I would even sweeten the deal by assuming a shape preferable to you. Anyone you want. Any shape, any size, any color, any gender. All in total confidentiality. Nobody ever has to know you were here. The offer is on the table." He placed his hand on the counter, palm down. "Right now. I promise you a week of total bliss - assuming we survive. You'll never get another chance to be this pampered. All I need from you is one word."
"No."
He blinked. "Don't you want to think about it?"
"No."
He clamped his mouth shut. Muscles played along his jaw. "Why?"
The TV screen ignited. Evgenii appeared in the glow. Saiman strode to the screen with a scowl on his face. "I'll make it short." His body boiled, twisted, stretched. I shut my eyes. It was that or lose my precious coffee. When I opened them, a petite red haired woman stood in Saiman's place.
"Does this explain things enough?" Saiman asked. "Or do I need to spell it out, Evgenii?"
"You're her?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it."
Saiman sighed. "Would you like me to list your preferred positions, in the order you typically enjoy them? Shall we speak of intimate things? I could recite most of our conversation word for word, I do have a very precise memory."
They stared at each other.
"It was all a lie," Evgenii said finally.
"I call it subterfuge, but yes, in essence, the marriage was a sham. You were set up from the beginning. I was Yulya. I was also Siren and Alyssa, so if you decide to visit that particular house of ill repute again, don't look for either."
Oh God.
The glow vanished. Saiman turned to me. "Back to our question. Why?"
"That man loved you enough to risk his own neck to negotiate your release. You just destroyed him, in passing, because you were in a hurry. And you want to know why. If you did that to him, there's no telling what you'd do to me. Sex is about physical attraction, yes, but it's also about trust. I don't trust you. You're completely self-absorbed and egoistic. You offer nothing I want."
"Sex is driven by physical attraction. Given the right stimulus, you will sleep with me. I simply have to present you with a shape you can't resist."
Saiman jerked, as if struck by a whip, and crashed to the floor. His feet drummed the carpet, breaking the herbs and fledgling ferns. Wild convulsions tore at his body. A blink and he was a mess of arms and legs and bodies. My stomach gave up and I vomited into the sink.
Ordinarily I'd be on top of him, jamming something in his mouth to keep him from biting himself, but given that he changed shapes like there was no tomorrow, finding his mouth was a bit problematic.
"Saiman? Talk to me."
"The acorn.... It's coming. Must... Get... Roof."
Roof? No roof. We were in the apartment, shielded by a ward. On the roof we'd be sitting ducks. "We can't do that."
"Oak... Large... Cave-in."
Oh hell. Would it have killed him to mention that earlier? "I need you to walk. You're too heavy and I can't carry you while you convulse."
Little by little, the shudders died. Saiman staggered to his feet. He was back to the unremarkable man I'd first found in the bedroom. His stomach had grown to ridiculous proportions. If he were pregnant, he'd be twelve months along.
"We'll make a run for it," I told him.
A faint scratch made me spin. An old man hung outside the window, suspended on a rope. Gaunt, his white beard flapping in the wind, he peered through the glass straight at me. In the split second we looked at each other, twelve narrow stalks unfurled from his neck, spreading into a corona around his head, like a nimbus around the face of a Russian icon. A bulb tipped each stock. A hovala. Shit.
I grabbed Saiman and threw him at the door.
The bulbs opened.
Blinding light flooded the apartment, hiding the world in a white haze. The window behind me exploded. I could barely see. "Stay behind me."
Shapes dashed through the haze.
I slashed. Slayer connected, encountering resistance. Sharp ice stabbed my left side. I reversed the strike and slashed again. The shape before me crumpled. The second attacker struck. I dodged left, on instinct and stabbed my blade at his side. Bone and muscle. Got him between the lower ribs. A hoarse scream lashed my ears. I twisted the blade, ripping the organs, and withdrew.
The hovala hissed at the window. I was still blind.
Behind me the lock clicked. "No!"
I groped for Saiman and hit my forearm on the open door. He ran. Into the hallway, where he was an easy target. I lost my body. God damn it.
I sprinted into the hallway, trying to blink the haze from eyes. The stairs were to the left. I ran, half blind, grabbed the door, and dashed up the stairs.
The blinding flare finally cleared. I hit the door, burst onto the roof, and took a kick to the ribs. Bones crunched. I fell left and rolled to my feet. A woman stood by the door, arms held in a trademark tae kwon do cat stance.
To the right, an older man grappled with Saiman. Six others watched.
The woman sprang into a kick. It was a lovely kick, strong with good liftoff. I sidestepped and struck. By the time she landed, I'd cut her twice. She fell in a crumpled heap.
I flicked the blood off my saber and headed for Saiman.
"You're Voron's kid," one of the men said. "We have no problem with you. Pavel's entitled. His son just threw himself off the roof."
Ten to a million, the son's name was Evgenii.
I kept coming. The two men ripped at each other, grappling and snarling like two wild animals. I was five feet away, when Pavel head-butted Saiman, jerking his right arm free. A knife flashed, I lunged, and saw Pavel slice across Saiman's distended gut. A bloody clump fell and I caught it with my left hand purely on instinct.
Magic punched my arm. Pale glow erupted from my fist.
Saiman twisted and stabbed something at Pavel's right eye. The volhv stumbled back, a bloody pencil protruding from his eye socket. For a long moment he stood, huge mouth gaping, and then toppled like a log. Saiman spun about. The muscles of his stomach collapsed, folding, knitting together, turning into a flat washboard wall.
The whole thing took less than three seconds.
I opened my fist. A small gold acorn lay on my palm.
The golden shell cracked. A sliver of green thrust its way up. The acorn rolled off my hand. The green shoot thickened, twisted, surging higher and higher. The air roared like a tornado. Saiman howled, a sound of pure rage. I grabbed him and dragged him with me to the stairs. On the other side, volhvs ran for the edge of the roof.
The shoot grew, turning dark, sprouting branches, leaves, and bark. Magic roiled.
"It was supposed to be mine," Saiman snarled. "Mine!"
Light flashed. The roaring ceased.
A colossal oak stood in the middle of the roof, as tall as the building itself, its roots spilling on both sided of the high rise. Tiny lights fluttered between its branches - each wavy leaf as big as my head. Birds sang in the foliage. A huge metal chain bound the enormous trunk, its links so thick, I could've laid down on it. A feeling of complete peace came over me. All my troubles melted into distance. My pain dissolved. The air tasted sweet and I drank it in.
At the other side of the roof, the volhvs knelt.
Metal clinked. A black creature came walking down the bottom loop. As big as a horse, its fur long and black, it walked softly, gripping the links with razor-sharp claws. Its head was that of lynx. Tall tufts of black fur decorated its ears and a long black beard stretched from its chin. Its eyes glowed, lit from within.
The cat paused and looked at me. The big maw opened, showing me a forest of white teeth, long and sharp like knives.
"Ask."
I blinked.
"You were the last to hold the acorn," Saiman whispered. "You must ask the question or it will kill all of us."
The cat showed me its teeth again.
For anything I asked, there would be a price.
"Ask," the cat said, its voice laced with an unearthly snarl.
"Ask, Kate," Saiman prompted.
"Ask!" one of the volhvs called out.
I took a deep breath.
The cat leaned forward in anticipation.
"Would you like some milk?"
The cat smiled wider. "Yes."
Saiman groaned.
"I'll be right back."
I dashed down the stairs. Three minutes later the cat lapped milk from Saiman's crystal punch bowl.
"You could've asked anything," the creature said between laps.
"But you would've taken everything," I told it. "This way all it cost me is a little bit of milk."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
In the morning Peters came to relieve me. Not that he had a particularly difficult job. After the oak disappeared, the volhvs decided that since both Pavel and Evgenii were dead, all accounts were settled and it was time to call it quits. As soon as we returned to the apartment, Saiman locked himself in the bedroom and refused to come out. The loss of the acorn hit him pretty hard. Just as well. I handed my fussy client off to Peters, retrieved Peggy, and headed back to the Guild.
All in all I'd done spectacularly well, I decided. I lost the client for at least two minutes, let him get his stomach ripped open, watched him stab his attacker in the eye, which was definitely something he shouldn't have had to do, and cost him his special acorn and roughly five months of work. The fact that my client turned out to be a scumbag and a sexual deviant really had no bearing on the matter.
Some bodyguard I made. Yay. Whoopee.
I grabbed my crap and headed for the doors.
"Kate," the clerk called from the counter.
I turned. Nobody remembered the clerk's name. He was just "the clerk."
He waved an envelope at me. "Money."
I turned on my foot. "Money?"
"For the job. Client called. He says he'd like to work exclusively with you from now on. What did the two of you do all night?"
"We argued philosophy." I swiped the envelope and counted the bills. Three grand. What do you know?
I stepped out the doors into an overcast morning. I had been awake for over thirty six hours. I just wanted to find a quiet spot, curl up, and shut the world out.
A tall lean man strode to me, tossing waist long black hair out of the way. He walked like a dancer and his face would stop traffic. I looked into his blue eyes and saw a familiar smugness in their depths. "Hello, Saiman."
"How did you know?"
I shrugged and headed on my way.
"Perhaps we can work out a deal," he said, matching my steps. "I have no intentions of losing that bet. I will find a form you can't resist."
"Good luck."
"I'm guessing you'll try to avoid me, which would make my victory a bit difficult."
"Bingo."
"That's why I decided to give you an incentive you can't refuse. I'm giving you a sixty percent discount on my services. It's an unbelievable deal."
I laughed. If he thought I'd pay him twenty-six dollars a minute for his time, he was out of luck.
"Laugh now." Saiman smiled. "But sooner or later you'll require my expertise."
He stopped. I kept on walking, into the dreary sunrise. I had three thousand dollars and some chocolate to buy.
THE END
FATE'S EDGE
Sneak Peak of FATE'S EDGE, Book 3 in the bestselling Edge Series
The Edge lies between worlds, on the border between the Broken, where people shop at Wal-Mart and magic is a fairy tale-and the Weird, where blueblood aristocrats rule, changelings roam, and the strength of your magic can change your destiny...
Born to a family of conmen, Audrey Callahan left behind her life in the Edge for an unmagical existence in the Broken. Audrey is determined to stay on the straight and narrow, but when her brother gets into hot water, the former thief takes on one last heist and finds herself matching wits with a jack of all trades.
Kaldar Mar is a gambler, a lawyer, a thief, and a spy with some unusual talents that guarantee him lucrative work. When his latest assignment has him tracking down a stolen item, Kaldar doesn't expect much of a challenge-until Audrey turns up to give him a run for his money.
But when the missing item falls into the hands of a lethal criminal, Kaldar realizes that in order to finish the job and survive, he's going to need Audrey's help...
Praise for the Novels of the Edge
"[An] engaging urban fantasy series opener."-Publishers Weekly
"A thoroughly entertaining blend of humor, action, misdirection, and romance."-Locus
"Will leave you breathless."-SF Revu
If she had only one word to describe Dominic Milano, it would be unflappable, Audrey Callahan reflected. Stocky, hard, balding-he looked like he had just walked out of Central Casting after successfully landing the role of "bulldog-jawed older detective." He owned Milano Investigations and under his supervision, the firm ran like clockwork. No emergency rattled Dominic. He never raised his voice. Nothing knocked him off his stride. Before moving to the Pacific Northwest, he'd retired from the Miami police department with over a thousand homicide cases under his belt. He'd been there and done that, so nothing surprised him.
That's why watching his furry eyebrows creep up on his forehead was so satisfying.
Dominic plucked the top photograph from the stack on his desk. On it, Spenser "Spense" Bailey jogged down the street. The next shot showed Spense bending over. The next one caught him in a classic baseball pitch pose, right leg raised, leaning back, a tennis ball in his fingers. Which would be fine and dandy, except that according to his doctor, Spense suffered from a herniated disk in his spine. He was restocking a warehouse when a walk-behind forklift got away from him, and the accident caused him constant excruciating pain. He could frequently be seen limping around the neighborhood with a cane or a walker. He needed help to get into a car and he couldn't drive because the injured disk pinched the nerve in his right leg.
Dominic glanced at Audrey. "These are great. We've been following this guy for weeks and nothing. How did you get these?"
"A very short tennis skirt. He hobbles past a tennis court every Tuesday and Thursday on the way to his physical therapy sessions." The hardest part was hitting the ball so it would fly over the tall fence. A loud gasp and a run with an extra bounce in her step, and she had him. "Keep looking. It gets better."
Dominic flipped through the stack. The next photo showed Spense with a goofy grin on his face carrying two cups of coffee, maneuvering between tables at Starbucks with the grace of a deer.
"You bought him coffee?" Dominic's eyebrows crawled a little higher.
"Of course not. He bought me coffee. And a fruit salad." Audrey grinned.
"You really enjoy doing this, don't you?" Dominic reflected.
She nodded. "He's a liar and a cheat, who's been out of work for months on the company's dime." And he thought he was so smart. He was practically begging to be cut down to size and she had just the right pruning shears. Chop-chop.
Dominic moved the coffee picture aside and stopped. "Is this what I think this is?"
The next image showed Spense grasping a man in a warm-up suit from behind and tossing him backward over his head onto a mat.
"That would be Spense demonstrating a German suplex for me." Audrey gave him a bright smile. "Apparently he's an amateur MMA fighter. He goes to do his physical therapy on the first floor and after the session is over, he walks up the stairs to spar."
Dominic put his hands together and sighed.
Something was wrong. She leaned back. "Suddenly you don't seem happy."
Dominic grimaced. "I look at you and I'm confused. People who do the best in our line of work are unremarkable. They look just like anyone else and they're easily forgettable, so suspects don't pay attention to them. They have some law enforcement experience, usually at least some college. You're too pretty, your hair is too red, your eyes are too big, you laugh too loud, and according to your transcripts, you barely graduated from high school."
Warning sirens wailed in her head. Dominic required proof of high school graduation before employment, so she brought him both her diploma and her senior year transcript. For some reason he bothered to pull her file and review the contents. Her driver's license was first rate, because it was real. Her birth certificate and her high school record would pass a cursory inspection, but if he dug any deeper, he'd find smoke. And if he took her fingerprints, he would find criminal records in two states.
Audrey kept the smile firmly in place. "I can't help having big eyes."
Dominic sighed again. "Here's the deal: I hire freelancers to save money. My full-time guys are experienced and educated, which means I have to pay them a decent wage for their time. Unless there is serious money involved, I can't afford for them to sit on a tough suspect for months, waiting for him to slip up. They get four weeks to crack a case. After that I have to outsource this kind of stuff to freelancers like you, because I can pay you per job. An average freelancer might close one case every couple of months. It's a good part-time gig for most people."
He was telling her things she already knew. Nothing to do but nod.
"You've been freelancing for me for five months. You closed fourteen cases. That's a case every two weeks. You made twenty grand." Dominic fixed her with his unblinking stare. "I can't afford to keep you on as a freelancer."
What? "I made you money!"
He held up his hand. "You're too expensive, Audrey. The only way this professional relationship is going to survive is if you come to work for me full time."
She blinked.
"I'll start you off at thirty grand a year with benefits. Here's the paperwork." Dominic handed her a manila envelope. "If you decide to take me up on it, I'll see you Monday."
"I'll think about it."
"You do that."
Audrey swiped the file. Her grifter instincts said, "Play it cool," but then, she didn't have to con people anymore. Not those who hired her, anyway. "Thank you. Thank you so much. This means the world to me."
"Everybody needs a chance, Audrey. You earned yours. We'd be glad to have you." Dominic extended his hand over the table. She shook it and left the office.
A real job. With benefits. Holy crap.
She took the stairs, jogging down the steps to burn off some excitement. A real job being one of the good guys. How about that?
If her parents ever found out, they would flip.
Audrey drove down Rough Ocean road away from Olympia. Her blue Honda powered on through the grey drizzle that steadily soaked the west side of Cascades. A thick blanket of dense clouds smothered the sky, turning the early evening gloomy and dark. Trees flanked the road: majestic Douglas firs with long emerald needles; black cottonwoods, tall and lean, catching the rain with large branches; red alders with silver-grey bark that almost glowed in the dusk.
A mile and a half ahead a lonely subdivision of identical houses waited, cradled in the fold of the hill, but meanwhile the road was empty. Nothing but the trees.
Audrey glanced at the clock. Thirty two minutes so far, not counting the time it took her to stop at a convenience store to get some teriyaki jerky for Ling and the time she spent driving around to different pharmacies. Getting to work would mean an actual commute.
She loved the job with Milano's investigative agency. She loved every moment of it, from quietly hiding in a car to watch a suspect to running a con on the conmen. They thought they were slick. They didn't know what slick was.
To be fair, most of the suspects she ran across were conmen of opportunity. They got hurt on the job and liked the disability, or they got tangled in an affair and were too afraid or too arrogant to tell their spouses. They didn't see what they were doing as a con. They viewed it as a little white lie, the easiest path out of a tough situation. Most of them went about their deception in an amateur way. Audrey had been running cons since she could talk. It wasn't a fair fight, but then in the world of grifters "fair" had no meaning.
Ahead the road forked. The main street rolled right, up the hill, toward the subdivision, while the smaller road branched left, ducking under the canopy of trees. Audrey checked the rear view mirror. The ribbon of pavement behind her stretched into the distance, deserted. The coast was clear.
She smoothly made the turn onto the smaller road and braced herself. Panic punched her in the stomach, right in the solar plexus. Audrey gasped. The world swirled in a dizzying rush and she let go of the wheel for a second to keep from wrenching the vehicle off the pavement. Pain followed, sharp, prickling every inch of her skin with red hot needles, and although Audrey had expected it, the ache still caught her by surprise. Pressure squeezed her, and then, just like that, all discomfort vanished. She had passed through the boundary.
A warm feeling spread through Audrey, flowing from her chest all the way to her fingertips. She smiled and snapped her fingers. With a warm tingle, tendrils of green glow swirled around her hand. Magic. Also known as flash. She let it die and kept driving.
Back on the main road, in the city of Olympia, in the state of Washington, magic didn't exist. People who lived there tried to pretend that it did. They flirted with the idea of psychics and street magicians, but they had never encountered the real thing. Most of them wouldn't even see the side road she took. For them it simply wasn't there - the woods continued uninterrupted. Every time Audrey crossed into their world, the boundary stripped her magic from her in a rush of pain. That's why people like her called that place the Broken - when you passed into it, you gave up a part of yourself and it left you feeling incomplete. Broken like a clock with a missing gear.
Far ahead, past mountains and miles of rough terrain another world waited, a mirror to the Broken, full of magic but light on technology. Well, not exactly true, Audrey reflected. The Weird had plenty of complex technology, but it had evolved in a different direction. Most of it functioned with the aid of magic. In the Weird, the power of your magic and the color of your flash determined the course of your life. The brighter you flashed, the better. If you flashed white, you could rub elbows with blueloods, Weird's aristocratic families.
The Weird, like the Broken, was a place of rules and laws. That's why Audrey preferred to live here, in the no-man's land between the two dimensions. The locals called it the Edge, and they were right. It was on the edge of both worlds, a place without countries or cops, where the cast-offs like her washed ashore. Connecting the two dimensions like a secret overpass, the Edge took everyone. Swindlers, thieves, crazed separatists, clannish families, all were welcome, all were dirt poor, and all kept to themselves. The Edgers gave no quarter and expected no sympathy.
The road turned to dirt. The trees had changed too. Ancient spruces spread broad branches from massive buttressed trunks, their limbs dripping with long emerald-green beards of tangled moss. Towering narrow hemlocks thrust into the sky, their roots cushioned in ferns. Blue haze clung to narrow spaces between the trunks, hiding otherworldly things with glowing eyes who prowled in search of prey.
As Audrey drove through, bright yellow blossoms of Edger primrose sensed the vibration of the car and snapped open with faint puffs of luminescent pollen. By day the flowers stayed closed and harmless. At night, it was a different story. Take a couple of puffs in your face and pretty soon you'd forget where you were or why you were here. A couple of weeks ago, Rook, one of the local Edger idiots, got drunk and fell asleep near a patch of those. They found him two days later, sitting up on a tree stump butt naked and covered in ants. This was an old forest, nourished by magic. It didn't suffer fools, gladly or otherwise.
She steered her Honda up the narrow road, past her driveway, forcing it to climb higher and higher up the mountain. A shadow loomed ahead, blocking the way. She flicked on her brights. An old pine had fallen across the road. She'd have to hoof it to Gnome's house. The road was muddy with recent rain and she had new shoes on. Oh well. Shoes could be cleaned.
Audrey parked, pulled the emergency brake as high as it would go, swiped the plastic bags off the seat, and climbed out. Mud squished under the soles of her shoes. She climbed over the tree and trudged up the narrow road, following it all the way up to the top of the mountain. By the time she made it to the clearing, the sky had grown dim. Gnome's house, an large two story jumble of weird rooms sticking out at random angles, was all but lost in the gloom.
"Gnome!"
No answer.
"Gnooome!"
Nothing.
He was inside. He had to be - his old beat up Chevy sat on the left side of the house, and Gnome rarely left the top of the mountain anyway. Audrey walked up to the door and tried the handle. Locked. She put her hand to the keyhole and pushed. The magic slid from her fingers in translucent currents of pale green and wove together, sliding into the keyhole. That old ornery knucklehead would probably kill her for this. The lock clicked. Audrey eased the door open smoothly, making sure it didn't creak more out of habit than real need.
Flash was a pure expression of one's magic. But most people born with it had a talent or two hidden up their sleeve. Some Edgers were cursers, some foretold the future. She opened doors.
Audrey passed through the narrow hallway into the main room, sectioned off by tall shelves filled with Gnome's knickknacks and merchandise. Being a local fence, he had enough inventory to put Costco to shame. He also functioned as an emergency general store. If Edgers needed deodorant or soap in a hurry and didn't want to drive all the way across the boundary, they stopped at Gnome'. And ended up paying ten bucks for a tube of toothpaste.
A fit of wet hoarse coughing came from deeper within the house. Audrey slipped between the shelves, like a silent shadow, and finally stepped out into the clear space in the middle of the room.
Gnome, a huge bear of a man, sat slumped over in his stuffed chair, an open book on a desk in front of him and a shotgun by his chair. Flushed skin, tangled hair, feverish eyes, all hunkered down in a blanket. He looked like a mess.
"There you are."
He peered at her with watering, bloodshost eyes. "What the hell are you-" Another fit of cough shook his large frame.
"That sounds awful."
"What are you-" Gnome sneezed.
"I brought you goodies." She pulled a box of decongestant pills out of the bag and put it on the desk. "Look, I've got canned chicken soup, Theraflu, and here are some cough drops, and here is a box of Puffs tissue with lotion, so you don't scrub all of the skin off that big beak of yours."
He stared at her, speechless. Now that was something. If she had a camera, she should take a picture.
"And this here, this is good stuff." Audrey tapped the plastic cup of Magic Vaporizer. "I had to hunt it down - they don't make it as much anymore, so I could only get a generic version. Look, you boil some water and put these drops in here and inhale - clears your nose right up. I'll fix you one and then you can yell at me."
Five minutes later she presented him with a steaming vaporizer and made him breathe it in. One, two, three...
Gnome sucked in his first breath. "Christ."
"Told you." Audrey set a hot bowl of chicken soup on his desk. "Works wonders."
"How did you know I was sick?"
"Patricia came down the mountain yesterday and we ran into each other at the main road. She said you had a cold and mentioned that you undercharged her for the lanterns by twenty bucks."
"What?"
Audrey smiled. "That's how I knew it was bad. Besides, I was tired of hearing you hack and cough all night. The sound rolls down the mountain, you know. You're keeping Ling awake."
"You can't hear me all the way down there."
"That's what you think. Take this generic or Theraflu before bed. Either will knock you out. The red pills are daytime."
Gnome gave her a suspicious look. "How much is all this gonna cost me?"
"Don't worry about it."
Gnome shrugged his heavy shoulders and put a spoon full of soup into his mouth. "This doesn't mean you're getting a discount."
Audrey heaved a mock sigh. "Oh well. I guess I'll have to ply you with sexual favors then."
Gnome choked on the soup. "I'm old enough to be your grandfather!"
Audrey winked at him, gathering the empty bags. "But you're not."
"Get out of here, you and your craziness."
"Okay, okay, I'm going." He was fun to tease and she was in such a good mood.
"What is with you anyway?" he asked. "Why are you grinning?"
"I've got a job. With benefits."
"Legit?"
"Yes."
"Well, congratulations," Gnome said. "Now go on. I'm sick of looking at your face."
"I'll see you later."
She left the house and slogged her way through the mud down to her car. Gnome was a gruff old bear, but he was kind in his own way. Besides he was the only neighbor she had within two miles. Nobody was around to help them. Either they took care of each other or they toughed it out on their own.
Backing Honda down the mountain in the gloom turned out to be harder than Audrey thought. She finally steered the vehicle to the fork, where the narrow road leading to her place split off and took the turn. Thick roots burrowed under the road and her Honda rolled over the bulges, careening and swaying, until it finally popped out into the clearing. On the right the ground dropped off sharply, plunging down the side of the mountain. On the left, a squat pale building sat in the shadow of an old spruce. It was a simple structure - a huge stone block of a roof resting on sturdy stone columns that guarded the wooden walls of the house within like the bars of a stone cage. Each three feet wide column bore a carving: dragons and men caught in the heat of a battle. A wide bas relief decorated the roof as well, showing a woman in a chariot pulled by birds with snake heads. The woman gazed down on the slaughter like a goddess from heaven.
Nobody knew who had built the ruins or why. They dotted this part of the Edge, a tower here, a temple there, gutted by time and elements and covered with moss. The Edgers, being poor and thrifty, knew better than to let them go to waste. They built wooden walls inside the stone frameworks, put in indoor plumbing and electricity illegally siphoned from the neighboring city or provided by generators, and moved right in. If any ancient gods took offense, they had yet to do anything about it.
Audrey parked the car under an ancient scarred maple and turned off the engine. Home, sweet home.
A ball of grey fur dropped off the maple branch and landed on her hood.
Audrey jumped in her seat. Jesus.
The raccoon danced up and down on the hood, chittering in outrage, bright eyes glowing with orange like two bloody moons.
"Ling the Merciless! You get off my car this instant!"
The raccoon spun in place, her grey fur standing on end, put her hand-paws on the windshield, and tried to bite the glass.
"What is with you?" Audrey popped the car door open.
Ling scurried off the car and leaped into her lap, squirming and coughing. Audrey glanced up. The curtains on her kitchen window were parted slightly. A hair-thin line of bright yellow light spilled through the gap.
Somebody was in her house.
Audrey slipped from the seat, dropping Ling gently to the ground, circled the car and opened the hatch back. A tan tarp waited inside. She jerked it aside and pulled out an Excalibur crossbow. It had set her back nine hundred bucks of hard-earned money, and it was worth every penny. Audrey cocked the crossbow and padded to the house, silent and quick. A couple of seconds and she pressed against the wall next to the door. She tried the handle. Locked.
Who breaks into a house and locks the door?
She peeled from the wall and circled the building, moving fast on her toes. At the back, she slipped between the stone framework and the wooden wall of the house and felt around for the hidden latch. It sprang open under the pressure of her fingers. She edged the secret door open and padded inside, into the walk-in closet, and out into her bedroom. The house had only three rooms: a long rectangular bedroom, an equally long bathroom, and the rest of it was taken up by a wide open space, most of which served as her living room and kitchen, with the stove, fridge, and counters at the north wall.
Audrey peeked out of the doorway. An older man with curly reddish-brown hair stood at the kitchen stove, mixing batter in a glass bowl, his slightly stooped back turned to her.
She would know that posture anywhere.
Audrey raised her crossbow and took a step into the living room.
The man reached for a bag of flour sitting on the counter. Audrey squeezed the trigger. The string snapped with a satisfying twang. The bolt punched through the bag inches from the man's fingers.
The man turned and grinned at her, his blue eye sparking. She knew the smile too. It was his con smile.
"Hi, munchkin."
Audrey let her crossbow point to the floor. "Hi, Dad."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
"A good shot." Seamus Callahan bent down, looking at the shaft protruding from the bag of flour. "I'd say you killed it. Bull's-eye."
Audrey set the crossbow down and crossed her arms. Inside her a tiny pissed off voice barked, "Get out, get out, get out..." He was here in her house, and she had to clench her fingers on her arms just to keep herself from attacking him and pushing him out.
But she was Seamus's daughter and twenty three years of grifting made her voice calm and light. "How did you find me?"
"I have my ways." Seamus opened the bag and poured some flour into the batter. "I'm making my patented silver dollar pancakes. You remember those, don't you?"
"Sure, dad. I remember." He was in her kitchen, touching her things. She would bleach it all after he was gone.
Ling slipped from the back door, scurried around her feet, and showed Seamus her teeth.
"Your little critter doesn't like me much," he said, pouring the batter into a sizzling pan.
"She has good instincts."
Seamus looked up at her, blue eyes like two flax petals under bushy red eyebrows. "There is no need for that."
Screw it. "What do you want?"
Seamus spread his arms, a spatula in his right hand. "My daughter disappears for four years, doesn't tell me where she is going, doesn't call, doesn't write. What, I don't have a right to be concerned? All we had was a little note."
Yeah, right. "The note said, 'Don't look for me.' That was a clue."
"Your mom is worried, kiddo. We were all worried."
Get out, get out, get out. "What do you want?"
Seamus heaved a sigh. "Can we not have a meal like a normal family?"
"What do you want, dad?"
"I have a job in West Egypt."
In the Weird. The worlds of the Weird and the Broken had similar geography, but their histories had gone entirely different ways. In the world without magic the huge peninsula protruding from the South Eastern end of the continent was known as Florida. In the Weird it was West Egypt, the Alligator to the Cobra and the Hawk of the triple Egyptian crown.
"It won't take but a week. A good solid payoff."
"Not interested."
He sighed again. "I didn't want to bring this up. It's about your brother."
Of course. Why would it ever be about anybody else?
Seamus leaned forward. "There is a facility in California -"
She raised her hands. "I don't want to hear it."
"It's beautiful. It's like a resort." He reached into his jacket. "Look at the pictures. These doctors, they're the best. All we have to do is pull off this one heist and we can get him in there. I'd do it myself, but it's a three-person job."
"No."
Seamus turned off the stove and shoved the pan aside onto a cold burner. "He is your brother. He loves you, Audrey. We haven't asked anything of you for three years."
"He is an addict, Dad. An addict. How many times has he been through rehab? It was eighteen when I left, what's the number now?"
"Audrey..."
It was too late. She'd started and she couldn't stop. "He's had therapy, he's had interventions, he's had doctors and counselors and rehabs, and it hasn't made a damn bit of difference. Do you know why? Because Alex likes being an addict. He has no interest in getting better. He is a dirty lowlife junkie. And you enable him on every turn."
"Audrey!"
"What was the one rule you taught me, Dad? The one rule that we never, ever break? You don't steal from family. He stole mom's wedding ring and pawned it. He stole from you, he stole from me, he ruined my childhood. All of it going right up his nose or in his mouth. The man never met a drug he didn't like. He doesn't want to get better, and why should he? Mommy and daddy will always be there to steal him more pills and pick him up off the street. He gets his drugs and all that attention. Hell, why should he quit?"
"He's my child," Seamus said.
"And what am I, dad? Chopped liver?"
"Look at you!" Seamus raised his arms. "Look, look you have a nice house, your fridge is full. You don't need any help."
She stared at him.
"Alex is sick. It's an illness. He can't help himself."
"Bullshit! He doesn't want to help himself."
"He'll die."
"Good."
Seamus slapped the counter. "You take that back, Audrey!"
She took a deep breath. "No."
"Fine." He leaned back. "Fine. You live happily in your nice house. Play with your pet. Buy nice things. You do all that, while your brother is dying."
She laughed. "Guilt, dad? Wait, I'll show you guilt."
She stomped to a book shelf, pulled out a photo album, and slapped it open on the counter in front of him. In the picture her sixteen year old self stared out from a mangled face. Her left eye had swollen shut into a puffy black sack. Dry tracks of blood stained her cheeks, stretching from half a dozen cuts. Her nose was a misshapen bulge. "What is this? Do you remember this?"
Seamus grimaced.
"What, nothing to say? Let me help: this is when my sweet brother traded me to his dealer for some meth. I had to give him all of the money I had on me and the gold chain grandma gave me, and I had to break into a rival drug dealer's lab and steal his stash so I wouldn't be raped. I had to break into a gang house, Dad. If I got caught, they would've killed me in a blink - if I was lucky. And Cory, the dealer? He used me for a punching bag after. He threw me on the ground and he kicked me in the face and in my stomach until he got tired. I had to beg - beg! - him to let me go. Look at my face. It was two days before my seventeenth birthday. And what did you do, Dad?"
She let it hang. Seamus looked at the window.
"You did nothing. Because I don't matter."
"Audrey, don't say that. Of course, you matter. And I spoke to Alex about it."
She gave him a bitter smile. "Yes. I've heard. You told him that if something happened to me, the whole family would suffer, because nobody would be left to steal."
"I said it in a way he would understand: if something happened to you, there would be no more drugs."
"Because it's all he cares about." Audrey sighed. "I left four years ago. I didn't cover my tracks, I just ran clear across the bloody continent to the other side. I would've gone to the moon if I could, but I would've still left you a nice trail to follow, because I kept hoping that one day my parents would wake up and realize they had a daughter. It took you this long to find me, because you didn't look until you needed me. I spent years stealing and grifting, so you could put him into one rehab after another. I'm done with you. Don't come here. Don't ask me for any favors. It's over."
"This will be the last time," he said quietly. "If you won't do it for me, do it for your mother. You know if Alex dies, it would kill her. I swear, this is the very last time. I wouldn't be here if I had any choice, Audrey. Just look at the pictures of the job." He pushed some photographs to her across the table.
She glanced down. The first two shots showed some sort of resort. On the third a white pyramid rose, its golden top gleaming in the sun. A stylized bull carved from reddish stone polished to a gleam stood before the pyramid. "The pyramid of Ptah? Are you out of your mind? You want me to go into the Weird and steal something from a pyramid?"
"It can be done."
"People who rob the pyramids in West Egypt die, Dad."
"Please, Audrey. Don't make me beg. Do you want me to get down on my knees? Fine, I can do that."
He would never leave her alone. If she did this job, he'd be back in six months with another and tell her that it would be "the very last time." She had to find a way to end it now and end it so he wouldn't return.
Audrey leaned forward. "I'll give you a choice. I'll do the job with you, but from that point on we're strangers. You don't have a daughter anymore and I don't have a father or a mother. If you show up on my land again, I'll shoot you. I'm dead serious, Dad. I will put a bolt through you. Or you can walk away now and keep me as your daughter. Pick. Him or me."
Seamus looked at the image of her bruised face in the photo album.
She waited. Deep inside her a little girl listened quietly, hoping for the answer that the adult in her knew wouldn't come.
"I'll see you at the end of the road tomorrow at seven," he said and walked out the door.
The disappointment gripped her so tightly, it hurt. For a few short pain-filled breaths she just stood there, and then she grabbed the pan, burned pancakes and all, burst out the back door, and hurled it over the cliff.
Kaldar Mar stepped back and critically surveyed the vast three-dimensional map of the Western Continent. It spread on the wall of the private conference room, a jeweled masterpiece of magic and semiprecious stones. Forests of malachite and jade flowed into plains of aventurine and peridot. The plains gave rise to mountains of brown opals with ridges of banded agates and tiger eye, topped by the snowy peaks of moonstone and jasper.
Beautiful. A completely useless waste of money, but beautiful. If it somehow could be stolen... you'd need a handcart to transport it and some tools to carve it to pieces. Hmm, also a noise dampener would work wonders here, and this being the Weird, he could probably find someone willing to risk creating a sound-proof sigil for the right price. Steal a custodian's uniform, get in, cut the map, wrap each piece in tarp, load them on the handcart, and push the whole thing right out the front door, while looking disgruntled. Less than twenty minutes for the whole job if the cutter was powerful enough. The map would feed the entire Mar family for a year or more.
Well, what was left of the family.
Kaldar's memory overlaid the familiar patterns of states over the map, ignoring the borders of the Weird's nations. Adrianglia took up a big chunk of the Eastern seaboard, stretching in a long vertical ribbon. In the Broken, it would have consumed most of the states from New York and southern Quebec to Georgia and a small chunk of Alabama. Below it, West Egypt occupied Florida and spread down into Cuba. To the left of Adrianglia, the vast Dukedom of Louisiana mushroomed upward, containing all of Louisiana and a chunk of Alabama in the south, rising to swallow Mississippi and Texarcana, and ending with the coast of Great Lakes. Beyond that smaller nations fought it out: the Republic of Texas, the Northern Vast, the Democracy of California...
Kaldar had grown up on the fringes of this world, in the Edge, a narrow strip of land between the complex magic of the Weird and the technological superiority of the Broken. Most of his life was spent in the Mire, an enormous swamp, cut off from the rest of the Edge by impassable terrain. The dukedom of Louisiana dumped their exiles there and killed them when they tried to reenter the Weird. His only escape had been through the Broken. He travelled back and forth, smuggling goods, lying, cheating, making as much money as was humanly possible and dragging it back to the family.
Kaldar stared at the map. Each country had an enemy. Each was knee-deep in conflict. But the only war he cared about was happening right in the middle, between the Dukedom of Louisiana and Adrianglia. It was a very quiet vicious war, fought in secrecy by spies, with no rules and no mercy. On the Adrianglian side, the espionage and its consequences were handled by the Mirror. He supposed if they were in the Broken, the Mirror would be the equivalent of the CIA or FBI, or perhaps both. On Louisiana's side, the covert war was the province of the secret service known as the Hand. He had watched the two organizations clash from the sidelines for years, but watching wasn't enough anymore.
First, the Mirror woke him up at ten till five, and now he spent fifteen minutes waiting. Puzzling.
The heavy wooden door swung open soundlessly and a woman entered the room. She was short, with a sparse, compact body, wrapped in an expensive blue gown embroidered with silver thread. Kaldar priced the dress out of habit. About five gold doubloons in the Weird, probably a grand and a half or two in the Broken. Expensive and obviously custom tailored. The blue fabric perfectly complimented her skin, the color of hazelnut shells. The dress was meant to communicate power and authority, but she hardly needed it. She moved as if she owned the air he breathed.
Nancy Virai. The head of the Mirror. They've never met - he had not been given that honor, poor Edge rat that he was - but she hardly needed an introduction.
He'd spent last two years doing small assignments, challenging, but nothing of great importance. Nothing that would warrant the attention of Lady Virai. Anticipation shot through Kaldar. Something big waited at the end of this conversation.
Lady Virai approached and stopped at the desk four feet away. Dark eyes surveyed him from a severe face. Her irises were like black ice. Stare too long and you'd veer off course and smash into a hard wall at full speed.
"You are Kaldar Mar."
"Yes, my lady."
"How long have you worked for me?"
She knew perfectly well when he had started. "Almost two years, my lady."
"You have open warrants in two Provinces, which we quashed when you were hired, and an extensive criminal record in Dukedom of Louisiana." Nancy's face was merciless. "You are a smuggler, a conman, a gambler, a thief, a liar, and an occasional murderer. With that resume, I can see why you thought the Mirror would be the proper career choice. Just out of curiosity, is there a law that you haven't broken?"
"Yes. I never raped anyone. Also, I never copulated with animals. I believe Adrianglia has a law against that."
"And you have a smart mouth." Nancy crossed her arms. "As per our agreement with your family and the condition of extracting the lot of you from the Edge, you are now a citizen of Adrianglia. Your debt is being paid in full by the efforts of your cousin Cerise Sandine and her husband, William. You are allowed to pursue any profession you may like. Yet you came to work for me. Tell me, why is that?"
Kaldar smiled. "I'm grateful to the realm for rescuing my family. I posses a unique set of talents that the Mirror finds useful and I don't want to rely on my lovely cousin and William for the repayment of my debt. William is a nice chap, a bit testy at times and he occasionally sprouts fur, but everyone has issues. I would feel rotten being indebted to him. It would be taking advantage of his good nature."
Nancy's cold eyes stared at him for a long second. "People like you love taking advantage of others' good nature."
He laughed quietly under his breath.
" You lie with no hesitation. The smile was particularly a nice touch. I imagine that face serves you quite well, especially in female company."
"It has its uses."
Lady Virai pondered him for a long moment. "Kaldar, you are a scoundrel."
He bowed with all the elegance of a blueblood prince.
"You were born smart but poor. You view me as a spoiled, rich woman born with a gold coin in my mouth. You feel that I and those of my social standing don't appreciate what we have and you delight in thumbing your nose at aristocracy."
"My lady, you give me entirely too much credit."
"Spare me your bullshit. You revel in sabotaging the system, you hate orders, and you break the law simply because it's there. You can't help yourself. Yet two years ago you came to me with a bridle and a set of spurs and said, 'Ride me.' And in two years, your record has been strangely law-abiding. You've been good, Kaldar. Within reason, of course. There was that business with the bank mysteriously catching fire."
"Completely accidental, my lady."
Lady Virai grimaced. "I'm sure. I need to know why you're going through all this trouble and I don't have time to waste."
The problem with honesty was that it gave your opponent ammunition to use against you. One simply didn't hand a woman like Nancy Virai a loaded gun. Unless, of course, one had no choice. If he played coy now or tried to lie, she would see through him and order him out of her office. He would continue his rotation of small-time assignments. He waited two years for this chance. He had to be sincere. "Revenge," Kaldar said.
She didn't say anything.
"The Hand took people from me." He kept his voice casual and light. "My aunts, my uncles, cousins, my younger brother. There were thirty six adults in the family before the Hand came to our little corner of the Edge. There are fifteen now and they are raising a crop of orphaned children."
"Do you want the Hand's agents dead?"
"No." Kaldar smiled again. "I want them to fail. I want to see despair in their eyes. I want them to feel helpless."
"What is driving you? It's not all hate. People driven by hate alone are hollow. You have some life left in you. Is it fear?"
He nodded. "Most definitely."
"For yourself?"
In his mind, he was back on that muddy hillside drenched in cold grey rain. Aunt Murid's body lay broken on the ground, her blood spreading across the brown mud in a brilliant scarlet stain. He was sure that's not what he actually saw. Back in that moment, he didn't have time to stand and watch the blood spread. He was too busy cutting into the creature that killed her. This memory was false. It came from his nightmares.
"What are you thinking of?" Lady Virai asked.
"I'm remembering my family dying."
"How did you feel when they were killed?"
"Helpless."
There. She had pulled it out of him. It hurt. He didn't expect it to, but it did.
Lady Virai nodded. "How well can you handle the Broken?"
"I swim through it like a fish through clear water."
She gave him a flat look.
"The Edge is very long but narrow," he told her. "The Mire, where my family lived, is boxed on two sides by impassable terrain. There are only two ways out: to the Weird and the Dukedom of Louisiana, or to the Broken and the State of Louisiana. The Dukedom uses the Mire as a dumping ground for its exiles. They murder any Edger who approaches that boundary. So that border is closed, which leaves only one avenue of escape, to the Broken. Most of my family had too much magic to survive that crossing, so it fell to me to procure supplies and other things we needed. I've traveled through the Broken since I was a child. I have contacts there and I've taken care to maintain them."
Lady Virai pondered his face.
Here it comes.
"So happens that I can use you."
Aha!
"A few hours ago a group of thieves broke into the Pyramid of Ptah in West Egypt." Lady Virai nodded at the map, where the peninsula that was Florida in the Broken, thrust into the ocean. "The thieves stole a device of great military importance to the Egyptians. The Hand likely commissioned this theft. To make matters worse, the thieves were supposed to hand off their merchandise to the Louisianans and they chose to do it in Adrianglian territory. Their meeting didn't go as planned and now Adrianglia is involved and the Egyptians are threatening to send the Claws of Bast into our lands to retrieve the object."
Kaldar frowned. The Hand was bad, the Mirror was dangerous, but the Claws of Bast were in a league of their own. There was a reason why their patron goddess was called the Devouring Lady.
"Can you handle a wyvern?" Lady Virai asked.
"Of course, my lady." Not much difference between an enormous flying reptile and a horse, really.
"Good. You will be issued one, together with funds, equipment and other things you may require. I want you to use it to fly to the south, find this device, and bring it to me. Find the object, Kaldar. I don't care if you have to chase it to the moon, I want it in my hands and I want it yesterday. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes. One question?"
Lady Virai raised her eyebrows a quarter of an inch.
"Why me?"
"Because the West Egyptians tells me the thieves are Edgers," she said.
"How do they know?"
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "They didn't specify. But it's hardly in their best interests to lie. The Hand hired the Edgers to do their dirty work and now they have vanished into the Broken. They think they are beyond my reach. Your job is to prove them wrong. You may go now. Erwin will brief you and see to the details."
Kaldar ducked his head and headed for the door. Fate finally smiled at him.
"Kaldar."
He turned and looked at her.
"I'm taking a gamble," she said. "I'm gambling that you are smart as well as pretty, and those smarts will keep you following my orders. Don't disappoint me, Kaldar. If you fail because of lack of ability, I will simply discard you. But if you betray me, I will retire you. Permanently."
He grinned at her. "Understood, my lady."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
The briefing room lay just a short walk from the conference room. Kaldar rapped his knuckles on the door and swung it open. Erwin rose from a chair with a neutral smile.
Lady Virai's pet flash sniper had a pleasant face, neither handsome, nor unattractive. His short hair, halfway between dark blond and light brown, didn't attract the eye. Of average height, he was trim but not overly muscular. His manner was unassuming, but at the same time he always appeared as if he belonged wherever he was. Never uncomfortable, never nervous, Erwin also never laughed. During meetings, people tended to forget he was in the room. He would blend right into a crowd of strangers, and once you passed him, his flash would take your head clean off. Erwin could hit a coin thrown in the air with a concentrated blast of magic from fifty paces away.
"Master Mar." Erwin held out his hand.
"Master Erwin." They shook.
Inconspicuous Erwin. When Kaldar first met him, he'd taken the time to replicate the look and the mannerisms. The results proved shocking. He'd walked right past the security into the Ducal palace twice before he decided to stop tempting the fate.
"Would you care for a drink?" the sniper asked.
"No."
"Very well. On with the briefing then." Erwin turned to the large round table and tapped the console. The surface of the table ignited with pale yellow. The glow surged up and snapped into a three dimensional image of a large pyramid, with pure white wall topped with a tip of pure gold. "The Pyramid of Ptah. The Egyptian pyramids started as tombs and slowly progressed into houses of worship and learning. This particular pyramid, the second largest in West Egypt, is devoted to Ptah, God of Architects and Skilled Craftsmen, Of all creation gods of West Egypt, he is particularly venerated because of his intellectual approach. In essence, if Ptah thinks of it, it comes into being."
"A useful power," Kaldar said.
"Very. Ptah's pyramid is the center of research for many magic disciplines. It's the place where discoveries are made and cutting edge technology is produced. That's why Egyptians guard it like the apple of their eye."
Erwin touched the console and the walls of the pyramid vanished, revealing inner structure - a complex maze of passageways.
"This is just what we know about," Erwin said. "The defenses of the pyramid are constantly evolving. It is seeded with traps, puzzles, impossible doors, and other delightful things designed to separate intruders from the burden of their lives. The Egyptians informed us that the thieves entered here, at two in the morning." Erwin picked a narrow metal tube and pointed at the passageway shooting off from the main entrance. The hallway lit up with bright shade of yellow. "It's a service hallway. It's typically locked at night and the lock is considered to be tamper-proof."
"Until now."
"A fair observation. The Egyptians estimate that a talented lock pick could open this lock in ten to fifteen minutes. The entrance is extensively patrolled. The thieves had a window of eight seconds, during which they opened the door, slipped inside the passageway, and closed and locked it behind them."
"They locked it?"
Erwin nodded.
Four seconds to open, four seconds to lock. That was crazy. To break into the pyramid of Ptah would take incredible talent. Kaldar had looked into it when he was younger and the family was desperate. If someone had asked him this morning if it could be done, he would've said no.
"Then they proceeded down this hallway, leaving three distinct sets of footprints, two large and one small."
"Two for muscle and the cat burglar," Kaldar guessed.
"Probably." Erwin swept the length of the hallway with his pointer, causing sections of the image light up. "They opened impossible locks in record time. They avoided all of the traps. They escaped detection and ended up here, bypassing both treasury here and armory here." The pointer fixed on a small room and then lit up rooms to the right and left of it. "They took a wooden box containing the device and walked out of the pyramid the way they came. In and out under twenty minutes.
"That's impossible."
"Our Egyptian colleagues are of the same opinion. Unfortunately, the facts have no regard for their collective sanity."
Kaldar frowned at the pyramid. "Was this the shortest route they could've taken to the room?"
"Yes."
An enterprising thief would've done the research and broke into the treasury. A terrorist would've gone for the armory and the weapons within. But these three went directly to the room, took their prize, and escaped. Someone had hired them to do this job and provided them with the plans of the pyramid. Only a heavy hitter would have access to this sort of intelligence. The Mirror. Or the Hand. That would explain why a thief with a talent of this caliber took a job for hire. The Hand's methods of persuasion rarely involved money. Mostly they showed you your child or your lover strapped to a chair and promised to send you a piece of her every hour until you agreed to do whatever they wanted.
There it was, finally, his chance of a direct confrontation. He would make them pay.
Erwin was watching him.
"What happened after the thieves left the pyramid?" Kaldar asked.
"They disappeared off the face of the world." Erwin fiddled with the console and the pyramid vanished, replaced by an aerial image of a small town. "This is the town of Adriana, population forty thousand. Two hundred and twenty leagues north, across the border, in our territory. A small, quaint settlement, famous for being the first place Adrian's fleet disembarked after crossing the ocean. It's a popular destination for school tours. Six hours and ten minutes after the thieves left the pyramid, Adriana's prized fountain exploded. The city crew, first on the scene, became violently sick. They reported catching ghost insects on their skin, hot flashes, freezes, temporary blindness, and vomiting."
The reaction to Hand's magic. Kaldar grimaced. The Mirror relied on gadgets to supplement their agents' natural talents, while the Hand employed magic modification. Officially all countries of the West Continent abided by an agreement that limited how far the human body could be twisted by magic. Louisiana made all the right noises and quietly manufactured freaks by the dozen. Men with foot long needles on their backs, women who shot acid from the hands, things that used to be human and now were just a tangled mess of fangs and claws.
Magic augmentation came with a price. Some agents lost their humanity completely, some held on to it, but all emanated their own particular brand of unnatural magic. If you were sensitive to magic, the first exposure made you violently sick. He'd experienced it first hand, and he didn't care to repeat it.
Erwin straightened. "The Egyptians believe the Hand hired the thieves to steal the object and scheduled the trade in Adriana, where things went badly for both parties. Your wyvern is on stand-by. With luck and good wind, you should be in Adriana in an hour. After you review the scene, I'd imagine you will have a better idea of the supplies you'll need. Please stop at the Home Office and we'll provide you everything you require. This assignment is rated first priority. Should you be captured, Adrianglia will disavow any knowledge of you and your mission."
"But you'll miss me?"
Erwin permitted himself a small smile. "Kaldar, I never miss."
Ha! "What's the nature of the stolen device?" Kaldar asked.
Erwin raised his eyebrows. "That's the best part."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
Kaldar surveyed the sea of rubble, enclosed by a line of fluorescent paint and guarded by a dozen undersheriffs. Before him stretched what had once been the Center Plaza: a circle of clear ground, which until this morning had been paved with large square blocks. The blocks had radiated like the spokes of a wheel from the tall round fountain in the shape of a pair of dolphins leaping out from the water basin. He'd picked up a tourist brochure on his way to the scene of the crime. It showed a lovely picture of the fountain.
Now the fountain lay in ruins. It wasn't simply knocked down, it was shattered, as if the dolphins had exploded from the inside out. Not satisfied with destroying the fountain, the perpetrator had wrenched the stone blocks around it out of the ground and hurled them across the plaza. The brochure stated that each block weighed upward of fifty pounds. Looking at the giant chunks of stone, Kaldar didn't doubt it. A small tea vendor's wagon must've gotten in the way of the barrage, because it lay in shambles, blue-green boards poking out sadly from under the stones.
Blood stained the rubble. Gobs of flesh lay scattered here and there, some looking like they could possibly be human and others sporting weird bunches of fish bladders strung together like grapes. About ten feet to the left a chunk of an oversized, flesh colored tentacle curled around a piece of cloth. Long strands of yellowish slime covered the entire scene. And to top it all off, the slime stank like days old vomit, harsh and sour. The deputies downwind, on the opposite side of the ruined plaza, valiantly tried not to gag.
The tall broad bruiser who was the Sheriff of Adriana was giving him an evil eye. His name was Kaminski and he was clearly having doubts about the wisdom of Kaldar's presence at his crime scene. Kaldar couldn't blame him. His skin was at least two shades darker than most faces in the crowd. He wore brown leather, fitted neither tight nor too loose, and he looked lean, flexible, and fast, like a man who scaled tall fences early in the morning.
The Sheriff stared at him. He could just go over and introduce himself, but what fun would that be?
Kaldar grinned. The Sheriff's blond sidekick began weaving his way through the crowd toward him.
Strange pair, these two, but probably highly effective. And respected too. They didn't bother with putting up any barriers, not even a rope. Just a line of paint around the crime scene and a dozen undersheriffs, but the crowd stayed way back.
Cops were the same everywhere, Kaldar reflected. In the Broken they called you sir and tazed you, while in the Weird they called you master and hit you with low level flash magic, but the street look, that wary, evaluating, flat look in their eyes was the same everywhere. Cops noticed everything and few of them were stupid. He had committed too many crimes in either world to underestimate them.
The blond Undersheriff stopped before him. "I'm Undersheriff Rodwell. Your name?"
"Kaldar Mar."
"Do you find the destruction of Adrianglian landmark humorous, Master Mar? Perhaps you would like to visit our jail and spend some time in our jail cell to collect your thoughts and explain to all of us what is so funny?"
"I'd love too," Kaldar said. "But my employer might take an issue with that."
"Who is your employer?"
Kaldar sent a spark of magic through his spine. A faint sheen rolled over the earring in his left ear. It dripped down forming a dull tear hanging from the hoop. The tear brightened, and Rodwell stared at his own reflection in a mirrored surface.
"Kaldar Mar, agent of the Adrianglian Secret Service." The tear sparked and vanished. "The Mirror is grateful for your assistance, Undersherrif. Thank you for securing the crime scene for me."
"I just want to know one thing," Sheriff Kaminski kept his voice low. "Is the Hand involved in this?"
Kaldar considered before making his answer. He needed their cooperation. It would make things easier and he needed to build contacts in law enforcement. "Yes."
The Sheriff chewed on it for a long breath.
"How do you know?" Rodwell asked.
Kaldar cycled through his options. Neither one of the men struck him as a social climber. They were good at what they did and they were happy right where they were. If he came on with an imperious aristocratic air, they'd stonewall him. The buddy-buddy approach wouldn't work either - their town was on the line and they were both too grim for jokes. A straight shooter, just-doing-my-job type was his best bet.
Kaldar delayed another half a second, as if weighing the gravity of the information, and pointed at a fragment of a tentacle a few feet away.
The two men looked in the direction of his fingers.
"That's a piece of a Hand operative, pieuvre class. Six to ten tentacles, amphibious, weighs in close to five hundred pounds. A nasty breed." He clipped his words a bit, adding a touch of a military tone to his voice.
"You've seen one before?" Rodwell asked. The hint of challenge in his voice was a shade lighter.
Kaldar pretended to think for a moment and grasped the sleeve of his leather jacket. The clasps on his wrist snapped open and he pulled the sleeve down, revealing his forearm. Four quarter-sized round scars dotted his forearm in a ragged bracelet, the reminder of a tentacle wrapping around his wrist. The suckers had burned into his skin, and not even the best magic the Mirror had at its disposal had been able to remove the scars. He let them see it and pulled the sleeve closed. "Yes. I've seen one."
"Did it hurt?" Rodwell asked.
"I don't remember," Kaldar answered honestly. "I was busy at the time." He heard people say that you couldn't kill a pieuvre operative with a knife. You could. You just had to have the proper motivation.
The Sheriff stared at the wreckage. "What do they want here?"
Kaldar gave him a flat look and clamped his mouth shut. Giving up the information too easily wouldn't do. Kaminski didn't like him and didn't trust him. However, if Kaldar risked his neck and broke the rules to put his fears to rest, well, it would be a different story. But no straight shooter would break the rules without serious doubts.
A wise man far away in a different world once said, "Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." Kaminski was worried about his town. It was written all over his face. That worry was the lever. Apply the proper amount of force, and Kaldar could shift the sheriff to his side.
The silence won.
"Look, Master Mar, I know you're breaking regulations," Kaminski said. "I just need to know if my people are safe."
Kaldar rocked back on his heels, looked at the sky, and sighed. "I don't normally do this."
Kaminski and Rodwell took a step closer, almost in unison. "It won't go anywhere," the Sheriff promised. "You have my word."
Kaldar took another breath. "Eight hours ago the West Egyptian authorities discovered that a group of thieves broke into the Pyramid of Ptah. The perpetrators stole a magic device of great strategic value. It was a theft for hire, and Louisiana's Hand was the intended recipient of the device. In the early morning hours the thieves crossed the border and arrived here, to meet the Hand's operatives. The Hand is infamous for double crossing the hired help, so the thieves picked a public, well known location for their own safety. As you can see, their fears were justified."
"So Adriana was never the intended target?" Kaminski asked.
"No, Sheriff. It was simply the closest public place. Your people are safe."
"Thank you," Kaminski said simply.
"If the city was never the target, why is the Mirror involved?" Rodwell frowned
"Because the attempted exchange took place on our soil, West Egypt requires our assistance in recovering the device. It's a diplomatic nightmare already. We must resolve this and quickly, or they may take matters into their own hands. Nobody wants to have half a dozen of the Claws of Bast running around in the realm."
The undersheriff winced. Even Kaminski looked taken aback for a moment. The Claws of Bast had a certain reputation.
Kaminski surveyed the rubble. "All those pieces look like they belong to the same body, and according to you, they're pieces of a Hand operative. No other body parts. The thieves got away."
Kaldar nodded. "Indeed. Somewhere out there, in that mess, is a clue that will tell me where they went."
"I can have my men pull the rubble apart," Kaminski said. "I can put sixteen undersheriffs on this. We'll throw up a grid, work in shifts through the night, and have every crumb and rock cataloged for you by the next morning."
Kaldar grinned. "I appreciate the offer, but time is short."
The two men stared at him. Showtime.
"Do you have any coins on you, undersheriff?" Kaldar asked.
Rodwell dug into his pocket and came up with a handful of change. Kaldar plucked the small silver disk of a half-crown from the man's palm and held it up with his thumb and index finger. The rays of the morning sun shone, reflecting from the small disk of silver. "I bet you a half-crown that I'll walk out there and find this vital clue in the next three minutes."
Rodwell glanced at the half crown and back at the sea of debris. A small smile bent his lips. "I'll take that bet."
A spark of magic pulsed from the coin in Kaldar's fingers. It shot through him like lightning, awakening something laying hidden deep in the recesses of his being, just on the edge of consciousness. The strange reserves of magic sparked to life and solidified into a tense, shivering current that burst through the coin, through his spine, up through his skull and down through his legs and soles of his feet. The current speared him, claiming him, and he shuddered, caught like a fish on the line. This was his own special talent. If he got someone to accept a bet, his magic skewed the odds in his favor.
The current pulled on him and Kaldar let it steer him. The magic led him, guiding each step, maneuvering him around the pitted pavement, over the heap of shattered marble, to a cluster of splintered wood. The coin tugged him forward. Kaldar bent. Something shiny caught the sun in the crevice underneath a twisted wreck of metal that used to be a tea making machine. He reached for it. His fingertips touched glass and the current vanished.
Kaldar pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped it over his fingers, and gently pried the glass object free. A six inch long tube with a wide bulb on the end. Dark soot stained the inside of the bulb. How about that?
He turned and brought his find back to the two men.
"What is that?"
"That's an 'I Love You Rose'. These tubes are sold in certain shops." Namely the gas stations near ghettos in the Broken. "There is usually a cheap fake flower inside. They're bought by addicts who drop cheap narcotics into the bulb and smoke the tube like a pipe."
Kaminski raised his head. "Bring the goleeyo!"
A young woman, whose blonde hair was carefully braided away from her face, hurried over, carrying a contraption of light bronze resembling a long flashlight. She glanced at the pipe, snagged a small leather book chained to her belt, tore a piece of thin paper and looked at Kaldar. "Hold it up please!"
He raised the meth pipe. Most of the Weird's gadgetry was still new to him. He hadn't seen this one before.
The blonde clicked the flashlight. A bright beam of pale green light stabbed the pipe, highlighting dirty smudges, specks of dirt, and on the bulb, one large beautiful fingerprint. The woman placed the paper between the light and the fingerprint, holding it an inch away from the glass and clicked the flashlight again. The flashlight whirred. Its back end split, the metal plates lifting up, revealing the interior, a series of small gears speckled with tiny gems. The gears spun. The flashlight clicked loudly, in a measured rhythm. With each click the light turned darker and bluer. Thin lines appeared on the paper, growing darker and darker. The beam of the flashlight turned indigo and winked out. The blonde woman handed Kaldar the piece of paper with the fingerprint squarely in the center.
He hit her with a dazzling smile. "Thank you, m'lady."
She smiled back. "You're welcome, m'lord."
If he didn't have to leave, he could've asked her to share a meal with him and she would say yes. Kaldar checked the hint of a smile hiding in her eyes. She would definitely say yes, and then he would get her to say yes to a night together, and it would be a lot of fun for them both. Unfortunately, he wasn't his own man at the moment.
"So what's next?" Kaminski asked.
"Next, I'll go hunting," Kaldar said.
Fifteen minutes later, Kaldar finished with the pleasantries, shook the hands, thanked and was thanked, and finally headed to his wyvern, waiting for him on the edge of town. Addicts in the Weird didn't use meth pipes, which meant the West Egyptians were right. These thieves must have come from the Edge or the Broken . Almost four months had passed since he had visited either place. The hop back across the boundary was long overdue.
Of the three people involved, the lockpicker had to be his best bet. A man with a gift like that wouldn't stay idle for long. Somewhere, somehow, that man had left a trail. All Kaldar had to do was find it.
He couldn't wait to meet the talented bastard.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
The fallen tree still blocked the road. Audrey sighed, put her parking brake on, and started up the mountain. The evening sky sifted grey drizzle onto the forest. Soon June would come and with it heat and crystalline blue skies, but for now the world was still damp; its colors, except for the brilliant green, muted. A far cry from Florida. Travelling through the Weird meant crossing four countries, impossible without a wyvern. She had flown from Seattle into Orlando instead. The plane had landed late, and they pulled the job off that night, but when they had driven to Jacksonville, she got to see the sunrise through the windshield of a stolen car. It started as a pale glow of purple and red near the horizon, just over the smooth expanse of silvery ocean, and then, suddenly, it bloomed across the sky, pink, and orange and yellow, a riot of color, huge and shocking. If it had a sound, it would've deafened everyone on the road.
Audrey sighed. She wished she could've stayed longer, but common sense had won. Every moment in Florida put her in danger. Besides seeing Alex again was like ripping off a scab. He hadn't changed, not even a little. Same sneer, same hollow eyes, same junkie-contempt for everyone and everything. She abandoned dad, no, Seamus, since he hardly was her father anymore, and Alex to their scheme and took the first available plane from Jacksonville. Ended up with a six hour layover in Atlanta, just like everyone else. She was pretty sure that if you died in the south, you'd have a layover in Atlanta before you reached the afterlife. But now, almost fifteen hours later, she was finally home.
The pyramid had been a hell of a challenge.. Complex locks weren't a problem, but three doors had heavy bars. Lifting a bar by magic felt harder than lifting her own weight. The three reinforced doors had nearly drained her dry, but she had done it. It was over now and she was living the first day of the rest of her life. Free life.
Audrey conquered the fallen tree, crossed the clearing, and knocked on the door of Gnome's house. A rough growl answered. "Come in!"
Audrey tried the door handle. Locked again. A little test, huh. She put her palm against the keyhole and the door clicked. Audrey opened the door, wiped her feet on the little rug, and went inside. Gnome sat in his chair. His thick eyebrows furrowed as she approached. Audrey took a seat across from him, reached into her bag, and pulled out a bottle of AleSmith Stout. She set the bottle on the table.
"Thank you for feeding Ling for me while I was gone."
"No trouble. All she needed was a cup of cat food." Gnome shrugged his huge shoulders. "The little beast hates me, you know."
"No, she's just weary. She's been beaten up by life," Audrey said.
"Haven't we all?" Gnome took the bottle by the top and turned it, this way and that. "That's some talent you've got there."
"It comes in handy." What was he getting at? If there was a job offer on the end of this conversation, she'd turn it down flat.
"Did your talent have something to do with this urgent business you left on?"
Audrey nodded.
"I thought you got a legal job in the Broken."
"I did. It was a special one-time thing. For the family."
"Family, huh." Gnome gave out a gruff snort. "I knew your father."
"He mentioned you."
Gnome studied the beer bottle. "What did he say?"
"It was some years back. He said you knew just about everything there was to know about the Edge business on this coast. He didn't like you much. He thinks you're a tough fence to con."
"Well, I don't like him much either." Gnome grimaced. "You see all this around you?" He indicated the shelves with a sweep of his hand. "That's over a hundred years of the right decisions."
It didn't surprise her. Gnome looked sixty maybe, but a lot of Edgers were long-lived. Couple of centuries wasn't out of the question and Gnome knew the Pacific Edge too well to have gotten into this business only a few years ago.
"I bargained for every item here and I know I can sell it for a profit. Those batteries over there cost me nine dollars and ninety eight cents. I sell them for three bucks a piece. Make fifty dollars and two cents in profit. I don't force foolish people to pay three dollars for a AA battery. I just provide the opportunity and they buy it because they're either too lazy to drive five miles down to the store. or they don't have the gas. or they've don't have the money but they've got something to trade. Why should I charge less because they can't make enough to feed their kids and buy gas at the same time? This is business. You build it little by little and you hold on to what you've got. Your father can't get it through his thick skull. He wants big money now, and when he gets it, he blows it all, because he is too damn stupid to pace himself. He had you with your gift and he's still penniless."
"I won't argue with you there." Childhood in the Callahan family had been feast or famine. One day steak, the next mac with imaginary cheese.
Gnome leaned forward, poking the table with his finger. "I'm not in the business of giving advice. I'm in the business of making money. So you listen to me good, because this is the only time I'll say this. You're a nice girl. Not many of you are left out there. You're an endangered species. Your father's trouble. He's a selfish asshole and his turkey is cooked - he ain't gonna change for nobody." Gnome made a cutting motion with his hand. "He'll drag you into a mess and run the other way. You've got a good thing going here: you've got a house, you've got a good job, and you're your own person. Don't let him screw it all up for you."
Audrey rose. "I won't. This was the last time."
"That's what they all say."
She smiled at him. "Yes, but I mean it. I will never do a job again for Seamus Callahan."
"You see to that."
Oh she would. She most definitely would. If any of Callahans ever showed themselves on her lawn again, she would meet them with a rifle in her hands. If she was feeling charitable, they'd get a warning shot, but chances of that were slim.
MAGIC GRIEVESIlona Andrews
Sneak Peek of the Kate novella tentatively titled Magic Grieves.
The excerpt below represents a section of rough draft. It has not been copyedited or proof-read and it contains grammatical errors. The final draft may differ significantly from this version. Read at your own risk.
I was ten feet from the office door of Cutting Edge Investigations, when I heard our phone ring inside. Unfortunately the key to the office was in my sweatshirt pocket, which at the moment was full of pale pink slime dripping from the tentacles resting on my shoulders. The tentacles weighed about seventy pounds and my shoulders really didn't like it.
Behind me Andrea, my best friend and partner in crime solving, shifted the bulbous mass of flesh that was the rest of the creature on her shoulder. "Phone."
"I hear it." I dug in my pocket, all but glued shut by slime. Cold wetness slipped through my fingers. Ew.
"Kate, it could be a client."
"I'm trying to find the key."
Clients meant money and money was in short supply. Cutting Edge opened its doors three months ago, and while we were getting a trickle of paying jobs, most of them were lousy. Despite a good recommendation from Red Guard, a premier bodyguard outfit in the city, clients weren't knocking down our door in a rush to hire us.
Our world was beset by magic waves. They flooded us at random, smothering technology and leaving monsters in their wake, and then the magic would vanish as unpredictably as it appeared, and the guns stopped jamming, while the electricity once again held the darkness at bay. Sadly the consequences of the magic waves didn't always vanish with them, and Atlanta spawned many places to get help with magic hazmat. All of them had been in business a lot longer than us: the cops, the Mercenary Guild, a slew of private companies, and the big gorilla, the Order of Merciful Aid. The Order and its knights made it their mission to guard humanity against all threats and they did just that, on their terms. Both Andrea and I worked for the Order at some point and both of us left under less than amicable circumstances. Our reputations weren't stellar, so when we got a job, it was because everyone else in town had already turned it down. We were quickly turning into Atlanta's place of last resort. Still, every successful job was a check mark by our name.
The phone rang, insistent.
Andrea sighed behind me.
Our latest job had come courtesy of Green Acres Home Owners' Association, who showed up at our door this morning claiming that a giant levitating jellyfish was roaming their suburb and could we please come and get it, because it was eating local cats. Apparently the translucent jellyfish was floating about with half-digested cat bodies inside it and the neighborhood children were very upset. The cops told them that it wasn't a priority, since the jellyfish hadn't eaten any humans yet, and the Mercenary Guild wouldn't get rid of it for less than a grand. The HOA offered us $200. Nobody in their right mind would do the job at that price.
It took us all damned day. And now we had to properly dispose of the cursed thing, because dealing with corpses of magical creatures was like playing Russian roulette. Sometimes nothing happened, and sometimes the corpse did fun things like meting into a puddle of sentient carnivorous protoplasm or hatching foot-long bloodsucking leeches.
The weight of the jellyfish suddenly vanished from my shoulders. I rummaged in my pocket and my fingertips slid against the cold metal. I yanked the key out, slipped it into the lock, and swung the heavy reinforced door open. Aha! Victory.
I lunged through the door and made a break for the phone. "Cutting Edge Investigations. How may I help you?"
"May I speak to Kate Daniels," a clipped female voice said into my ear.
"Speaking."
"Please hold for Mr. Meadows." The phone clicked and dissolved into hissing.
Meadows, Meadows... Who the hell was Meadows? Sounded familiar. Ah! Mark. Mark Meadows, officially the Mercenary Guild admin, and unofficially the operations manager. Mark was excellent at his job, but he suffered from the delusion that "white collar" was a noble title. Mercs hated him with undying passion and since the Guild's founder died, the Mercenary Guild had remained rudderless. Technically I was still a member of the Guild. Practically, I was never there.
So he calls me and puts me on hold, huh? Okay. I dropped the phone back in its cradle.
I turned to the door and watched Andrea walk through it. Behind her, the jellyfish squeezed through the doorway on its own.
I blinked.
The jellyfish successfully entered, turned, and I saw Curran carrying it in his hands, as if three hundred pound mass of flesh was no heavier than a plate of pancakes. It's good to be the Beast Lord.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Back room," Andrea said. "Here, I'll show you."
The phone rang. I let it wail a couple of times before I picked it up. "Cutting Edge."
Mark's voice came on the line. "Daniels? Don't hang up."
"Make it fast, Mark, I'm busy."
"Look, I need to talk to you about the meeting."
"What meeting?"
"Come on, Kate. Don't bust my balls. The mediation meeting. Do I need to make an appointment?"
Curran and Andrea emerged from the back room.
"Sure. Let me check my calendar." I rolled my eyes at Andrea, playing for time. Curran closed the distance between us. "How's tomorrow at two strike you?"
"I'll be there."
I hung up the phone and kissed the Beast Lord. He tasted like of toothpaste and Curran and the feel of his lips on mine made me forget the lousy day, the bills, the clients, the two gallons of slime covering my clothes. The kiss had lasted only a couple of seconds, but it might as well have been an hour, because when we broke apart, it felt like I had come home, leaving all my troubles far behind.
"Hey," he said, his grey eyes pale on his sun-tanned face.
"Hey."
Behind him Andrea rolled her eyes.
"What's up?" I asked him. Curran almost never came to visit my office, especially not in the evening. He hated Atlanta with all the fire of a supernova. I didn't have anything against Atlanta in theory - it was half-eroded by the magic waves that washed over it at random and it burned a lot - but I had a thing about crowds. When my workday was over, I didn't linger. I headed straight for the Keep and His Furry Majesty.
"I thought we'd go to dinner," he said. "It's been awhile since we've gone out."
Technically we had never gone out to dinner. Oh, we had eaten together in the city but usually it was accidental and most of those times involved other people and frequently ended in a violent incident.
"What's the occasion?"
Curran's blond eyebrows came together. "Does there have to be a special occasion for me to take you out to dinner?"
Yes. "No."
He leaned to me. "I missed you and I got tired of waiting for you to come home."
And he had me. "I have to wait for the Biohazard to get here to pick up the jellyfish."
"I've got it," Andrea offered. "Go, there is no use of two of us sitting here. I have some stuff I need to take care of anyway."
I hesitated.
"I can sign forms just as good as you," Andrea informed me. "And my signature doesn't look like scratches of a drunken chicken in the dirt."
"Screw you."
"Yeah, yeah. Go have some fun."
"I need a shower," I told Curran. "I'll see you in ten minutes."
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
It was Friday, eight o'clock on a warm spring night, my hair was brushed, my clothes were clean and slime-free, and I was going out with the Beast Lord. Curran drove, while I studied the file in my lap, which Jim, the Pack's Security Chief, had given to Curran for me before his Majesty left the Keep.
The file contained a hand-written explanation with some numbers. Apparently Solomon Red, who was a closet shapeshifter and the Guild's now deceased founder, had bequeathed seventeen percent of the Guild's ownership to the Pack. The Guild had been in limbo since his death, with Mark wanting to assume leadership and veteran mercs opposing him. Apparently I had seniority and since I was the Curran's Consort, it was up to me to cast the deciding vote. Great. At least it explained the phone call.
I glanced at Curran in the driver seat. Even at rest, like he was now, relaxed and driving, he emanated a kind of coiled power. He was built to kill, his body a blend of hard, powerful muscle and supple quickness and something in the way he carried himself telegraphed a shocking potential for violence and willingness, no, entitlement, to unleash it at the slightest provocation. He seemed to occupy a much larger space than his body permitted and he was impossible to ignore. This potential for violence used to alarm me. Now I just took it as a part of him. Here is my sugar woogums: his eyes are grey, his hair is blond, and if you piss him off, he'll sprout giant claws and roar like thunder.
Curran caught me looking and flexed. Carved muscles bulged on his arms. Curran winked. "Hey baby."
I cracked up. "So where we're going?"
"Arirang," Curran said. "It's a nice Korean place, Kate. They have charcoal grills at the tables. They bring you meat and you cook it any way you want."
Figured. Left to his own devices, Curran consumed only meat, spiced with an occasional desert. "That's nice for me, but what will your vegetarian Majesty eat?"
Curran gave me a flat look. "I can always drive to a burger joint instead."
"Oh, so you'd throw a burger down my throat and expect making out in the back seat?"
He grinned. "We can do it in the front seat instead, if you prefer. Or on the hood of the car."
"I am not doing it on the hood of the car."
"Is that a dare?"
Why me?
"Kate?"
"Keep your mind on the road, your Furriness."
The city rolled by, twisted by magic, battered and bruised but still standing. The night swallowed the ruins, hiding the sad husks of once mighty, tall buildings. New houses flanked the street, constructed by hand with wood, stone and brick to withstand magic's jaws.
I rolled down the window and let the night in. It floated into the car, spring and a hint of wood smoke from a distant fire. Somewhere a lone dog barked out of boredom, each woof punctuated by a long pause, probably to see if the owners would let him in.
Ten minutes later we pulled into a long empty parking lot, flanked by old office buildings that now housed Asian shops. A typical stone building with huge store-front windows sat at the very end, marked by a sign that read Arirang.
"This is the place?"
"Mhm," Curran said.
"I thought you said it was a Korean restaurant." For some reason I had expected a hanok house with a curved tiled roof and a wide front porch.
"It is."
"It looks like Western Sizzlin."
"Will you just trust me? It's a nice place..." Curran braked, and the Pack Jeep screeched to a stop.
Two skeletally thin vampires sat at the front of the restaurant, tethered to the horse rail with chains looped over their heads. Pale, hairless, dried like leathery jerky, the undead stared at us with mad glowing eyes. Death had robbed them of their cognizance and will, leaving behind mindless body shells driven only by bloodlust. On their own, the bloodsuckers would slaughter anything alive and keep killing until nothing breathing remained. Their empty minds made a perfect vehicle for necromancers, who telepathically navigated them like remote controlled cars.
Curran glared at the vampires through the windshield. Ninety percent of the vampires belonged to the People, a weird hybrid of a corporation and a research institute. We both despised the People and everything they stood for.
I couldn't resist. "I thought you said this was a nice place."
He leaned back, gripped the steering wheel and let out a long growling, "Argh."
I chuckled.
"Who the hell stops at a restaurant while navigating?"
I shrugged. "Maybe they were hungry."
He gave me an odd look. "This far away from the Casino means they're out on patrol. What, did they suddenly get the munchies?"
"Curran, ignore the damn bloodsuckers. Let's go and have a date anyway."
He looked like he wanted to kill somebody.
The world blinked. Magic flooded us like an invisible tsunami. The neon sign above the restaurant withered and a larger brilliant blue sign ignited above it, made from handblown glass and filled with charged air.
I reached over and squeezed Curran's hand. "Come on, you, me, a platter of barely seared meat, it will be great. If we see the navigators, we can make fun of the way they hold their forks."
We got out of the car and headed inside. The bloodsuckers glanced at us in unison, their eyes like two smoldering coals buried beneath the ash of a dying fire. I felt their minds, twin hot pinpoints of pain, clenched securely by the navigators' wills. One slip up and those coals would ignite into an all consuming flame. Vampires never knew satiation. They never got full, they never stopped killing, and if let loose, they would drown the world in blood and die of starvation when there was nothing left to kill.
The chains wouldn't hold them - the links were an eighth of an inch thick at best. A chain like that would restrain a large dog. A vamp would snap it and not even notice, but general public felt better if the bloodsuckers were chained, and so the navigators obliged.
We passed the vampires and entered the restaurant.
The inside of Arirang was dim. Feylanterns glowed with soft light on the walls, as the charged air inside their colored glass tubes reacted with magic. Each feylantern had been handblown into a beautiful shape: a bright blue dragon, an emerald tortoise, a purple fish, a turquoise stocky dog with a unicorn horn... Booths lined the walls, their tables plain rectangles of wood. In the center of the floor four larger round tables sported built-in charcoal grills under metal hoods.
The restaurant was about half full. There were two couples in booths on the right: the first was occupied by two middle aged men and the second was a dark-haired man and a blond woman in their twenties. The younger couple chatted quietly. Good clothes, relaxed, casual, well groomed. Ten to one these were the navigators who had parked the bloodsuckers out front. The Casino had seven Masters of the Dead and I knew them by sight. I didn't recognize either the man or the woman. Either visiting or upper level journeymen.
Both of the older guys in the next booth were armed. The closer one carried a short sword, which he put on the seat next to him. As his friend reached for the salt shaker, his sweatshirt hugged a gun in the side holster.
Past them in the far right corner, four women in their thirties laughed too loud - probably tipsy. On the other side a family with two teenage daughters cooked their food on the grill. The older girl looked a bit like Julie. Two business women, another family with a toddler, and an older couple rounded off the patrons. No threats.
The air swirled with delicious aroma of meat cooked over open fire, sautéed garlic, sweet spice. My mouth watered. I hadn't eaten since grabbing some bread this morning from a street vendor. My stomach actually hurt.
A waiter in a plain black pants and a black T-shirt led us to a table in the middle of the floor. Curran and I took chairs opposite one another-I could see the back door and he had a nice view of the front entrance. We ordered hot tea. Thirty seconds later it arrived with a plate of pot stickers.
"Hungry?" Curran asked.
"Starving."
"Combination platter for four," Curran ordered.
His hungry and my hungry were two different things.
The waiter departed. Curran smiled. It was a happy genuine smile and it catapulted him from attractive into irresistible territory. He didn't smile very often in public. That intimate smile was usually reserved for private moments when we were alone.
I reached over, pulled the band off my braid, and slid my fingers through it, unraveling the hair. Curran's gaze snagged on my hands. He focused on my fingers like a cat on a piece of foil pulled by a string. I shook my head and my hair fell over my shoulders in a long dark wave. There we go. Now we were both private in public.
Tiny gold sparks danced in Curran's grey irises. He was thinking dirty thoughts and the wicked edge in his smile made me want to slide next to him and touch him.
We had to wait. I was pretty sure that having hot sex on the floor of Arirang would get us banned for life. Then again, it might be worth it..
I raised my tea in a salute. "To our date."
He raised his cup and we clinked them gently against each other.
"So how was your day?" he asked.
"First, I chased a giant jellyfish around through some suburbs. Then I argued with Biohazard about coming and picking it up, because they claimed it was a Fish and Game issue. Then I called Fish and Game and conferenced them into the Biohazard, and then I got to listen to the two of them argue and call each other names. They got really creative. Also the Mercenary Guild is having some sort of arbitration to decide who's in charge and apparently Jim think that I'm supposed to break that tie. Because I am a veteran and the Consort, and the Pack apparently owns some percentage of the Mercenary Guild."
"Not looking forward to it?"
"I'd rather eat dirt. It's between Mark and the veterans led by the Four Horsemen, and they despise each other. They're aren't interested in reaching a consensus. They just want to throw mud at each other over a conference table."
An evil light sparked in his eyes. "You could always go for Plan B."
"Pound everyone to a bloody pulp until they shut up and cooperate?"
"Exactly."
It would make me feel better. "I could always do it your way instead."
Curran raised his blond eyebrows.
"Roar until everyone pees themselves."
A shadow of self-satisfaction flickered on his face and vanished, replaced by innocence. "That's bullshit. I'm perfectly reasonable and I almost never roar. I don't even remember what it feels like to knock some heads together."
The Beast Lord of Atlanta, a gentle and enlightened monarch. "How progressive of you, Your Majesty."
He cracked another grin.
The male necromancer in the booth next to us reached under the table and produced a rectangular rosewood box. Ten to one, there was some sort of jewelry inside.
"Your turn. How did your day go?"
"It was busy and full of stupid shit I didn't want to deal with." Curran drank his tea.
The blond woman opened the box. Her eyes lit up.
"The rats are having some sort of internal dispute over some apartments they bought. Took all day to untangle it. "
The woman plucked a golden necklace from the box. Shaped like an inch and a half segmented collar of pale gold, it gleamed in the feylanthern light.
I poured us more tea. "But you prevailed."
"Of course." He drank his tea. "You know, we could stay over in the city tonight."
"Why?"
"Because that way we wouldn't have to drive for an hour back to the Keep before we could fool around."
Heh.
A scream jerked me off my feet. In the booth, the blond necromancer clawed at the necklace, gasping for breath. The man stared at her, his face a terrified mask. The woman raked her neck, gouging flesh. With a dried pop, her neck snapped, and she crashed to the floor. The man dove down, pulling at the necklace. "Amanda! Oh my god!"
Past him two pairs of red vampire eyes stared at us through the window.
Oh crap. I pulled Slayer from the sheath on my back. Sensing undead, the pale blade of the enchanted saber perspired, sending wisps of white vapor into the air.
The dull carmine glow of vampire irises flared into vivid scarlet. Shit. The restaurant just updated its menu with fresh human.
Flesh boiled on Curran's arms. Bone grew, muscle twisted like slick ropes, skin clenched the new flesh and sprouted fur, and enormous claws slid from Curran's newly thickened fingers.
The vampires rose off their haunches.
Curran stood up next to me.
I gripped the hilt, feeling the familiar comforting texture. Bloodsuckers reacted to sudden movement, bright lights, loud noises, anything that telegraphed prey. Whatever I did had to be fast and flashy. The blood alone wouldn't do it, not when every table was filled with raw meat.
The window exploded in a cascade of gleaming shards. The vampires sailed through, like they had wings. The left bloodsucker landed on the table, the remnant of the chain hanging from its neck. The right skidded on the slick parquet floor and bumped into another table, scattering the chairs.
I dashed to the left, pulling Slayer as I sprinted. Curran snarled and leaped, covering half the distance to the right bloodsucker in a single powerful jump.
The vamp glared at me. I looked into its eyes.
Hunger.
Like staring into an ancient abyss. Behind the eyes, its mind burned, free of the chain. I wanted to reach out and crush it, like a bug between my fingernails. But doing that would give me away. I might as well give the People a sample of my blood with a pretty bow on it.
I flicked my wrist, making the reflection of feylanterns dance along Slayer's surface. Look. Shiny.
The bloodsucker's gaze locked on the blade. The vamp ducked down, like a dog before the strike, front limbs wide, yellow claws digging into the table. The wood groaned. The chain slipped along the table's edge, clinking.
No way for a neck cut. The chain loop would block the blade.
A high pitched, female scream slashed my eardrums. The vamp hissed, jerking in the direction of the sound.
I jumped on the chair next to the table and thrust sideways and up. Slayer's blade slid between the vamp ribs. The tip met a tight resistance and sliced through it. Hit the heart. Banzai.
The bloodsucker screeched. I let go of the saber. The vamp reared, the Slayer up to the hilt in its rib cage. The undead staggered, pitched over, and crashed to the floor, flopping like a fish on dry land.
To the left, Curran thrust his claws through the flesh under his vamp's shin. The bloody tips of the claws emerged from the back of the bloodsucker's neck. The vamp clawed at him. Curran thrust his monstrous hand deeper, clenched the vamp's neck and tore its head off the body.
Showoff.
He tossed the head aside and glanced at me, checking. The whole thing took about five seconds. Felt like an eternity. We were both in one piece. I exhaled.
The restaurant fell silent, except for the hoarse hissing from the convulsing vampire as my saber liquefied its innards, absorbing the nutrients into the blade and the male necromancer sobbing on the floor.
In the far corner a man swiped his toddler from his high chair, grabbed his wife's hand, and ran out. As one the patrons jumped. Chairs fell, feet pounded, someone gasped. They rushed out of both doors. In a blink the place was empty, save for us and the two necromancers.
I gripped Slayer and pulled. It slid from the body with ease. The edges of the wound sagged and dark brown blood spilled from the cut. I swung and beheaded the vamp with a single sharp stroke.
Curran's arms shrank, streamlining, grey fur melting into his skin. He walked over to the male necromancer, pulled him upright, and shook him once, an expression of deep contempt on his face. I could almost hear the guy's teeth rattle in his skull.
"Look at me. Look at me."
The necromancer stared at him, shocked eyes wide, his mouth slack.
I knelt by the female navigator and touched her wrist, keeping away from the neck and the gold band on it. No pulse. The necklace clamped her neck like a golden noose, its color a dark vivid yellow, almost orange. The skin around it was bright red and quickly turning purple.
I picked up her purse, pulled out a wallet and snapped it open. People ID. Amada Sunny, journeyman, Second Tier. Twenty years old and now dead.
Curran peered into the journeyman's face. "What happened? What did you do?"
The man sucked in a deep breath and dissolved into tears.
Curran dropped him in disgust. His eyes were pure gold. He was pissed off out of his mind.
I went to the hostess desk and found the phone. Please work... Dial tone. Yes!
I punched in the office number. Chances were, Andrea was still there.
"Cutting Edge," Andrea's voice said.
"I'm in Arirang. Two navigators were having dinner. The man gave the woman a gold necklace and it strangled her to death. I'm looking at two dead vampires and one human corpse."
"Sit tight. I'll be there in thirty minutes."
I hung up and dialed the Casino.
"Kate Daniels, for Ghastek. Urgent."
"Please wait," female voice said. The phone went silent. I hummed to myself and looked at the ID. I didn't know which of the Masters of the Dead Amanda answered to, but I knew Ghastek was the best of the seven. He was also power-hungry and he was making his bid for taking over the Atlanta's office of the People. He was very much in the limelight at the moment and I could count on a rapid response.
A moment passed. Another.
"What is it, Kate?" Ghastek's voice said into the phone. He must've been doing something, because he failed to keep exasperation from his voice. "Please keep this quick, I'm in the middle of something."
"I have one dead journeywoman, one hysterical journeyman, two dead vampires, one pissed off Beast Lord with bloody hands, and a half a dozen terrified restaurant staff." Quick enough for you?
Ghastek's voice snapped into brisk tone. "Where are you?"
"Arirang on Greenpine. Bring a decontamination unit and body bags."
I hung up. Our waiter edged out of the doors and approached our table, looking green. The rest of the staff were probably huddled together in the back room, terrified, not knowing if it was over.
"Is it over?"
Curran turned to him. "Yes, it's over. The People are on their way to clean up the mess. You can bring your people out, if it will make them feel better. We guarantee your safety."
The waiter took off. Someone shouted. A moment later the doors opened and people ran out: an older Korean man, the older woman who had greeted us, a woman who looked like she could be their daughter and several men and women in waiter garb. The younger woman carried a boy. He couldn't be more than five.
The owners piled up into the booths around us. The boy stared at the two vampires with dark eyes, big like two cherries.
I dropped into the chair next to Curran. He reached over and pulled me close. "I'm sorry about the dinner."
"That's okay." I stared at the dead woman. Twenty years old. She barely had a chance to live. I'd seen a lot of death, but for some reason the site of Amanda laying there on the floor, her boyfriend weeping uncontrollably by her body, chilled me to the bone. I leaned against Curran, feeling the heat of his body seep through my T-shirt. I was so cold and I really needed his warmth.
\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*
A caravan of black SUV's descended onto the parking lot, their enchanted water engines belching thunder. We watched them through the broken window, as the SUVs parked at the far end, killed the noise, and vomited people, vampires, and body bags. Ghastek emerged from the lead vehicle, ridiculously out of place in a black turtleneck and tailored dark pants. He came through the door, surveyed the scene for a second, and headed to us.
Curran's eyes darkened. "I bet you a dollar he's running over to assure me that we're in no danger."
"That's a sucker's bet."
The People were efficient, I gave them that. One crew went for the headless vampire, other headed for the woman's body, the third for the despondent journeyman. Two women and a man in business suits made a beeline for the booth where the owners sat.
Ghastek came close enough to be heard. "I want it to be clear: this was not an attempt to kill either of you. The journeymen weren't supposed to be here and the guilty party will be harshly reprimanded."
Curran shrugged. "Don't worry, Ghastek. If this was an attempt, I know you'd bring more than two vampires."
"What happened?" Ghastek asked.
"They were having dinner," I told him. "They seemed happy together. The boy handed her a necklace and it choked her to death."
"Just so I understand, Lawrence himself wasn't personally injured."
"No," Curran said. "He was in shock from watching his girlfriend die in front of him."
Ghastek looked over the scene again, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "Once again, we're dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience."
"We'll live," Curran said.
One of the People stepped away from Amanda's body. "The necklace adhered to her skin. There doesn't appear to be any locking mechanism. It's a solid band of gold."
"Leave it," Ghastek said. "We'll remove it later."
If I were them, I'd cut it off during tech and stick it into a hazmat container.
A middle-aged man shouldered his way inside the restaurant, followed by a young woman and a boy, who looked about seven. I glanced at the woman and had to click my mouth shut. She was in her late teens, right on the cusp between a girl and a woman. Her body, full in the bust and hips, slimmed to a narrow waist. Her long slender legs carried her with a natural grace. Her hair streamed from her head in a shimmering cascade so precisely matching the color of gold, I would've sworn it was gold if I didn't know better. Her face, a pale oval, was angelic. She glanced at me in passing. Her irises were an intense deep blue and her eyes were decades older than her face.
She was beautiful.
She was also not human. Or she had bargained with something not human for that body.
Curran was watching her. His nostrils flared a little as he inhaled, sampling the scents.
Ghastek focused on the woman as well, with a kind of clinical interest usually afforded to an odd insect. "Here come the grieving parents. I've met them before."
"Is that her sister?" I murmured.
"No, that's Mrs. Sunny, her mother. The boy is Amanda's brother."
Not human.
The middle-aged man saw the female navigator, whose body the People had just loaded on the gurney. "Amanda! Jesus Christ, Amanda! Baby!"
"No!" The woman cried out.
He dashed to Amanda. "Oh God. Oh God."
The golden-haired woman chased after him, the boy in tow. "Don't go near her!"
The man grasped Amanda's hand. The golden band of the necklace popped open. An eerie soft glow ignited within the necklace, setting the gold aglow.
"Oh Go-" Amanda's father fell silent in the middle of the word, transfixed by the necklace.
His hand inched toward it.
"Stop!" Curran barked.
I was already moving.
The golden woman pushed past him, yanked the necklace from Amanda's neck, spun, and thrust it at the boy's throat. The gold band locked on the child's neck, adhering to his skin. I missed it by half a second.
The boy gasped. His father shook his head, as if awakened from a dream.
The golden-haired woman stared at me with her old eyes and smiled. 
"Are you out of your mind?" I snarled. "That necklace just killed your daughter."
"This isn't your affair," the golden-haired woman said.
"Take it off. Now."
She sneered. "I can't."
She knew exactly what that necklace did. She made a conscious choice between her husband and her son.
The boy dug his fingers into his neck, trying pry the necklace loose. It remained stuck. The skin around the band of gold was turning red. We had to get him out of here.
The man stared at her. "Aurellia? What's going on? What's the meaning of this?"
"Don't worry about it," the woman told him. "I'll explain it later."
"No, you'll explain it now." Curran moved next to me.
"I have to concur," Ghastek said.
The woman raised her chin. "You have no authority over me."
"Aurellia, what is going on?" her husband asked.
"On the contrary. We have all the authority we need." Ghastek snapped his fingers. A woman in a business suit and glasses popped up by his side as if by magic.
"The necklace caused the death of a journeywoman in our employ," the woman said. "We've expended considerable amount of money training her, not to mention the cost of the two vampires that were terminated as a result of her death. That necklace is evidence in our investigation of the incident. If you obstruct our investigation by withholding this evidence from us, we will obtain a court order requiring you to surrender the necklace to us. Should we choose to pursue this matter further, you will find yourself in a very actionable position."
Some people had attack dogs. Ghastek had attack lawyers. If he got his hands on the boy, he'd find a way to remove the necklace. Even if he had to behead the child to get it.
I couldn't let the People get the boy.
"That's nice," I said. "I have a simpler solution. Take the necklace off the child now and I won't kill you."
"Wait a God damned minute." Amanda's father moved to stand between me and his wife. "Everyone calm down. Just calm down."
"Give me the boy and nobody gets hurt," I told them. "Nobody here will stop me."
"That child is wearing our evidence," Ghastek said.
Curran's eyes lit up with gold. He leveled his alpha stare on the woman. She flinched.
"Give me the child," Curran said, his voice a deep inhuman growl.
"Fine." Aurellia shoved the boy toward us. "Take him."
Curran swept the boy off the floor and picked him up. Ghastek's face fell. We've won this round.
"Give me back my son!" the man demanded.
Curran just looked at him.
"It's in the boy's best interests to stay in our custody," Ghastek said. "We have better facilities."
"It's not your facilities I doubt," Curran said. "It's your motives."
"What does that supposed to mean?" Ghastek narrowed his eyes.
"It means the necklace is more important to you than the boy," I said. "You'll slice the flesh off his neck to get it."
"That's a gross exaggeration." The Master of the Dead crossed his arms. "I've never murdered a child."
"Oh it's never murder when you do it," I said. "It's a regrettable accidental casualty."
"You can't do this!" Amanda's father thrust himself before Curran. "You can't take my son."
"Yes, I can," Curran said. "We'll keep him safe. If your wife decides to explain what's going, I will consider returning him."
"Go fuck yourself," the golden-haired woman said. "Crawl back into whatever dark hole you came out of. I have no care for you or your kind." She turned and walked out of the restaurant.
Her husband froze, caught for a moment between his son and his wife. "This isn't over," he said finally and chased after Aurellia.
"Give us the boy," Ghastek said, his tone reasonable.
"I don't think so," Curran said. "If you want to examine him later, you're welcome to visit the Keep."
Around us the People tensed. In the corner two vampires leaned forward.
I unsheathed Slayer. I had a lot of practice and I did it fast. The lawyer woman jerked back. The opaque blade smoked, sensing the undead. Come on, Ghastek. Make our night.
Ghastek sighed. "Fine. I'll make the necessary arrangements later."
Curran headed out through the door. I waited a second and followed, walking backward for the first two steps to make sure that no undead would come leaping out of darkness at Curran's back.
The door of Arirang swung shut behind us. Ghastek's voice called out, "Alright, people, back to work. Let's process the scene tonight."
"What's your name?" Curran asked.
The boy swallowed. "Roderick."
"Don't be afraid," Curran told him, his voice still laced with snarls. "I'll keep you safe. If anything threatens us, I'll kill it."
The boy gulped.
A giant violent man with glowing eyes and inhuman voice just took you from your parents, but don't be afraid, because he'll kill anything that moves. Kick-ass calming strategy, Your Majesty.
"He might be less scared if you stopped snarling and turned off the headlights."
The fire in Curran's eyes died.
"It will okay," I told Roderick. "We just want to take off that necklace, and then you can go back to your parents. It will be okay. I promise."
If the necklace snapped his neck, there wasn't a damn thing I or Curran or anybody else could do about it. We had to get him to the Keep's infirmary.
We headed into the parking lot just as Andrea pulled up in a Pack Jeep.
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About the Author
Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. "Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.)
Gordon and Ilona currently reside in Texas with their two children, three dogs and a cat. They have co-authored two series, the bestselling urban fantasy of Kate Daniels and romantic urban fantasy of The Edge.
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Table of Contents
ONE FOR THE MONEYJeaniene FrostChapter One
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYSChapter 1

