by K. N. Banet
“Fine.” He shrugged and got up, walking back inside.
I yawned again and realized I needed to get inside, or I would end up falling asleep on my patio. I reached to get my laptop and found he had taken it inside. The glass of my penthouse doors and windows was tinted, making it hard to see inside. I was only able to make out his silhouette, moving into the kitchen, probably about to make an unreasonably large meal.
I went inside and locked the patio for the night, my pulse jumping as I entered the heat. It felt like I was given straight caffeine, or someone plugged me into an outlet. The heat brought me to life, banishing the sluggishness I had been feeling.
“So, what are you going to eat?” I asked, following him into the kitchen. “More red meat?”
“I was thinking salmon, actually. I picked up some yesterday, along with some other groceries,” he answered, seeming unfazed by my sudden energy. I knew he wouldn’t be.
After a few months living together, I liked to think Raphael and I understood each other well enough or at least understood each other’s habits. I didn’t really know him, but I could plan my entire day around him. Like me, he woke up late and went down to the gym for three hours, came back up to the penthouse and showered, then made enough food to feed a small village. Sometimes I ate with him, sometimes I passed and had one of my own snacks. After that, I went down to the gym and did my own workout, glad to be away from him, the smell of his aftershave, and the view of his exercised muscles bulging under whatever size-too-small shirt he was wearing. How it was a size too small I didn’t know. Every shred of clothing he owned was spelled by the fae tailors to fit him perfectly, forever.
I wasn’t careful and breathed in through my nose, catching the smell of him, all of him—his aftershave, his natural human musk that was never truly gone, and a hint of sweat from his time in the gym. My fangs dropped, telling me it was time to go.
“Well, have a good meal,” I said, slapping the counter as I walked out, trying to will my fangs back into their resting position. Every night, like clockwork, I found myself with the intense need to bite, claim, and keep the man of mystery tied to me for my immortal life.
Every night, like clockwork, I walked away from the urge.
It wasn’t hard, but it took more effort than I liked. I had to push my feet to keep walking to get out of his space. I had to focus on the door, only pausing to grab my workout bag from the front closet before running out of my own home. I knew I had to disappear for at least an hour to let his scent dissipate. It was always strongest after he worked out and showered; too intense for my self-control.
I made my way to the first floor of my building and went into the gym, making sure to lock it behind me. It was against building code, but I purposefully worked out late enough, there was very rarely anyone trying to come in. When someone did, they generally moved on and went somewhere else. No one had tried to report me to the building’s manager.
I started breezing through my workout, trying to let it take me away from the problems upstairs. In the nearly four months since Raphael became my burden to bear, we were nowhere closer to understanding him. Mygi sent over documents, but none of them were helpful. What little they claimed to learn about him was roughly the same as what Raphael had already told me. They offered simple biological facts that could help, but their own research hadn’t pointed to anything, or so they claimed.
I didn’t believe a damn word of it, but I couldn’t force the issue anymore. The Tribunal was allowing Mygi to wall themselves off. They did too much good for the rest of the supernatural world for everyone to get up in arms about one mostly-human man.
It pissed me off but let me know they were still my enemy. Mygi wanted to keep secrets, and I was dedicated to discovering them. Too bad I had no idea where to start.
I had learned very little since the Sinclair situation was handled. Raphael and I had finally found time to talk about other things he remembered, but none of it was helpful.
Raphael had escaped from a lab located in the Rockies, then moved down to the desert because he knew the area and the people. He bounced around, running from them, but he couldn’t remember how to get back to the lab or point me in the right direction. That indicated some magic—a spell, charm, or glamour—which erased someone’s detailed memory of its location. Both witches and fae could pull it off, but it would need someone very powerful or a group to pull it off on a large location. There were probably very few people who knew how to get to that mysterious lab. I was playing cautious about asking anyone in the Tribunal, or even Cassius, to get Mygi’s cooperation. The head honchos at Mygi were already pissed at me, and I didn’t want to give them any more of a reason to hate me, not now that I knew what they were capable of.
Once I have something, I can unravel this entire fucking thing, but I don’t have shit. The fuckers at Mygi are probably laughing at me every damn night.
I finished my set on the bench press and sighed. I was working out to take my mind off it, yet it was the very thing I thought about every night. It kept me awake most of the time. One of the reasons I sat out on my patio in the cool evenings was to let my mind go quiet in the chill. Anything to take my mind away from the questions I was struggling to answer.
I grabbed a small, clean towel from my bag and threw it over my neck, checking the time as I walked out of the gym. I had been working out for two hours, and Raphael was probably waiting on me upstairs to get something started or give him some task to do. I didn’t have much. Normally, we spent our nights either trying to get him to remember more or just going over supernatural knowledge he needed to know.
Walking back into the penthouse, my nose caught the scent I loved and hated. I followed it into the kitchen, where Raphael was sitting at the bar over an empty plate. He was reading something, but I couldn’t catch the title.
“How was your workout?” he asked, not looking up.
“Good. What do you want to do tonight?” I asked, suddenly uncomfortable. I hated when he tried small talk. I wasn’t very good at it, and I didn’t want to be good at it—not with him. Every day he was in my space, the more used to him I became, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like how my fangs dropped every night and need curled in my belly when I saw him. I didn’t like the trouble surrounding him, when I had enough of that in my own life.
“I think I want to go out,” he said, sighing. “Other than errands, we never leave. I’m going a bit crazy, to be honest.”
I sighed and sat down three seats from him. My penthouse was designed to host parties and have guests, not that I ever had either.
“There’s only one place I go to on a Friday night, and that’s The Jackalope. It’s a seedy little bar where most of the city’s bounty hunters hang out between jobs. Paden, the owner, is a fae who makes most of his money dealing in information. If that sounds interesting, sure, we can go and have a couple of drinks.” I wasn’t feeling up to a night out, but this was the first time Raphael showed any interest in going out. We had established a new identity for him, so the humans didn’t give him a second look. There was no reason for him to stay cooped up with me. There was no reason he needed to live apart from the supernatural world.
“A seedy little bar with criminals?” He narrowed his eyes on me. “I’m not surprised that’s your suggestion.”
“Maybe it’ll be good for you. There are all sorts of supernaturals who go there on a regular basis. On top of that, the seedy shit really only happens downstairs. We don’t have to go down there if you don’t want to.” I grinned. I was starting to like the idea.
Raphael gave me a curious look, then turned away, his expression unreadable.
“I’ll check it out,” he said enigmatically.
I jumped up to go take a shower and get ready. Before I left the kitchen, I looked back and smiled.
“Call Cassius and Sorcha. Maybe they’ll slum with us for the evening.”
I didn’t tell him the only reason I wanted to invite them was for his protect
ion. Only a few short months ago, the bar had been full of people looking to capture him for ten million dollars.
2
Chapter Two
We used my new BMW X5 M to get through the city, a luxury SUV worth more than Raphael probably ever made in a year. Thanks to him, I invested in something bigger, knowing I would need the extra space and security. It could still go fast, though not as fast as my destroyed Aston. Instead, I decked it out with every security option I could find, including bulletproof glass and millions in magical protection, mostly by friends of Cassius and Sorcha. I had the entire thing reinforced and even had a roll cage on the inside added by someone smart enough to know how to hide it. The windows were tinted dark enough, not even someone with good night vision could see through them.
I couldn’t take chances anymore and was already planning what my toy sports car was going to be. The BMW was a good work vehicle, and I knew it would be safer than what I had been using.
“I hate this thing,” Raphael muttered as I drove. We were nearly halfway there, so I wasn’t sure what had brought on the sudden comment.
“Why?” I demanded, confused by his opinion of my new ride.
“It’s so expensive when a car half its price could do everything you need. Just seems like a waste of money. I know you’re rich, you don’t need to explain that to me again, but this is just…It’s wasteful.”
I sighed heavily, not sure how to respond, thinking about it while he stared at me.
“No response?” He seemed surprised I didn’t have a quick comeback.
“Wealth is easy come, easy go in our world,” I said, trying to put my thoughts into words. “The Tribunal pays me about a million a year, which is chump change to many, but I can support my lifestyle with it most of the time. I supplement with bounties that are legal and easy. I work hard for it, so why shouldn’t I use it?”
“So, everyone like you lives like this?” He seemed impressed, and I almost considered telling him he could get the job if he reached out to the Tribunal. They loved the strange ones, like me, as their Executioners.
Then I remembered his Catholic guilt complex.
“No,” I answered honestly, going back to his question. “I have a large inheritance that lets me live a bit better than most. The nagas have always had a considerable amount of wealth to our species, and over the centuries, as families have died out, it’s been pooled to those who remain. I’m the last of my family. If I die, it’ll all go to one of the surviving nagas to help them further their own protection.”
Or to you.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, looking away again.
I pulled into The Jackalope’s parking lot, parked, then turned to him fully.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. At some point, the nagas have made enemies who have committed to seeing our kind become extinct. We’re also one of the biggest victims of supernatural black market trading. It’s just a fact of life, and none of it is your fault.” I didn’t want his pity or sympathy. If anything, focusing on his problems was giving me a chance to hide from my own and gave me much needed space from the whole ‘nagas are going extinct’ issue.
“What do you mean, black market trading?” He was frowning as I got out of the car.
“Everyone thinks it’s cute to own a snakeskin bag that’s special,” I explained, watching his eyes go wide as he rose out of the BMW and stared in horror across the hood. “It’s just the world we live in, Raphael. There're good guys and bad guys. Just a warning, The Jackalope tends to have some bad guys in it. None I need to worry about professionally, but a lot of people who live in the grey area come here for a good time when they’re passing through Phoenix. Shouldn’t be anyone you need to worry about now, either.”
“Okay.” He seemed a little green but nodded.
I led the way to the door and walked in, looking around the bar I hadn’t visited in months, longer than normal. I was still feeling guilty about Paden. People looked up and seemed shocked to see me. I could taste vampires in the air as I licked my lips. They wouldn’t be happy to see me, but I hoped they wouldn’t give me any trouble tonight. There were also fae and werewolves, even a single odd werecat. That last one troubled me. I looked around the room cautiously, wondering what werecat could be roaming through my city, but didn’t catch a glimpse of the scent’s owner. There was a chance the werecat was already gone. Beyond that, I didn’t see Glenn at the bar upstairs. There was a new face, making me a little curious.
“So, upstairs or downstairs?” I asked Raphael, hovering behind my right shoulder. I couldn’t dwell all night on the other supernaturals in the bar. Standing at the door like we were wasn’t a smart decision.
“Downstairs. I know it has more…unsavory people, but up here feels…”
“Exposed?” I finished for him. He nodded, and I understood his problem. He’d spent years and years hiding from everyone and everything. The idea of sitting in a bar and having a drink was a good one, but he wasn’t as comfortable as he probably hoped he would be. “It is. This is where normal people drink and have a good time in an ugly bar.” There was no point keeping my voice down because everything in the room had better-than-human hearing. I led Raphael to the stairs down to the basement, the really fun place in The Jackalope.
“Kaliya, it’s been a while.” Deacon smiled as I came closer. He was a big, burly fae who always stood guard on the door to the downstairs half of the bar, where all the real players drank and talked.
“It has. Deacon, this is Raphael. Raphael, this is Deacon.” I waved a hand between them, pleased when they shook without much trouble.
“Good to meet you,” Deacon smirked. He touched his ear and talked into his mic. “Letting Kaliya down with a plus one. Gird your loins.”
He opened the door and I went in first, knowing if I didn’t show my face before Raphael, there could be a little trouble. I was halfway down the steps when Paden came into view. I stopped, unsure of his reaction to my presence.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite bounty hunter,” he said softly, opening his arms in greeting.
“I’m a Tribunal Executioner, you know that,” I nearly whispered. When I reached him at the bottom of the stairs, he took my hand and squeezed it.
“You didn’t need to stay away for so long, and you know it. I took my thumps from Sinclair’s people, and they’re all dead now. No harm, no foul.” He pulled me into the open, where everyone could see me, and led me to the bar. “Wife was a little pissed, but she knows I get into some dangerous business. Not the first time I’ve been knocked around and tortured a little.”
I looked at his hands as he talked, glad to see there seemed to be no lasting effects of that torture. They had broken his hands to keep him from calling me until he had healed enough. It had given them a lot of time to get to me and Raphael.
He stopped at the bar, pointing at Henley.
“Give her whatever she wants,” he ordered his bartender before turning back on me. “And you need to tell me if this man is who I think he is.”
“Raphael in the flesh.” I smiled as Paden and Raphael stared at each other. “You know, the one you sent me to look for, and it led to all sorts of bad things.”
“I should have never mentioned it to you,” Paden muttered, reaching out to shake Raphael’s hand. “Are the rumors true? You’re not human, but nobody knows what you are.”
“Paden deals in information, using his bar as an easy cover,” I quickly told Raphael before he answered. If he decided to offer confirmation to the rumors, it would be knowing everything I could tell him.
“It’s true,” Raphael answered. “I heard you cater to…the not-so-good of the supernatural world.”
“Just in this little area of the world,” Paden said, chuckling. “I know everything about the people who work in Phoenix and the surrounding area. Las Vegas just opened up to me as well.” He directed that last part to me. “I’m thinking of opening a branch of The Jackalope over there and getting a foot in
the door, now that Sinclair doesn’t run the city. The power vacuum needs to settle first, though. I want the city to go clean before I move in. Proper vampire nest, real pack, the works.”
“And here I felt bad for the beating you took. You’re going to go play games in Vegas, the city of sin where the baddies like to live—like that place is ever going to clean up its act,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. I should have figured. Paden had been looking to expand his operation for years, and Vegas was close enough to be an easy expansion.
“It’s better information than say Los Angeles or San Diego, where all the rich people live,” he retorted. “Now…” he trailed off, his eyes going a little blank, then frowned. “Did you really invite Cassius here?” he asked, the frown gaining a hefty amount of confusion mixed in.
“I did, him and Sorcha.” Paden paled a little, but I couldn’t begin to understand why. I knew I was going to have to ask him about it later. “Henley, I’ll take a whiskey. I don’t know what Cassius and Sorcha like to drink, but don’t let Cassius anywhere near tequila.”
“I’ll have a beer. Don’t care what type,” Raphael said quietly, following my lead. “Should we find a place to sit down?”
“Sure, but let’s wait on these two.” I turned back to the stairs as Paden mumbled obscenities while he walked over to the dark stairwell.
“Lord Cassius and Lady Sorcha. It’s an honor to have you visit my humble establishment.” Paden’s fake excitement was the epitome of bad acting and fooled no one. He needed to follow the rules of hospitality, though. Cassius’ tight smile when he came into view told me he wasn’t comfortable with the visit, either. Neither of them was very interesting, though, once Sorcha came into view.
