by Quirah Casey
I raise a brow. “Agent, I’ve already demonstrated that I am much stronger and more powerful than you. Do you really want to challenge me?”
He points a finger at me. “I don’t understand how you think being forced into servitude is fair.”
“If you’d sit, maybe I would explain.”
His jaw clenches before he sits back down. I look at London, wondering what would possess him to try to guard me. We aren’t friends, not even close, so there’s no reason for him to stick up for me, especially since we all know I can handle my own battles. I stare at him in curiosity, but he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck as he retakes his seat.
“I’m sure you’re both aware that beatus hot spots tend to operate outside of the law. We have our own ways. Here in Lobrooke, we like to keep the peace.” London laughs sardonically, but I choose to ignore him. “We operate on trust, loyalty, and our own base of rules. One of those is that when you enter into a deal—and this only applies if the matter is discussed beforehand—you are consenting to enter into byurtid servitude if you break the agreement. Both people willfully enter into this situation and are bound by a witch or a faerie to keep their promise.
“So what you’re saying is that the byurtid signed up for it.” London mutters, still not looking directly at me.
“Exactly.”
“It's still not right,” Levitsky argues, running a hand through his hair.
“If you try to arrest people for this, not only will there not be enough room at the agency to fit them all, but you’ll also be dead by the end of the week for messing up the order of things in Lobrooke.”
“And let me guess, it’ll be you that rips my heart out?”
I just smile. “Now that I am done educating you two, I can say that I know who the urewt is.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place?” London asks.
“Because Agent Do-Good was about to blow a gasket.”
He rolls his eyes. “So who does the brand belong to?”
“Tarae. She’s a local rogue wolf—kicked out of her pack after she poisoned the beta in an attempt to move up.”
“You sound impressed.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I do admire ambition.”
Levitsky shakes his head, typing on his tablet. “Her last name?”
“Symes.”
“You seem pretty familiar with this Tarae,” London notes, his eyes narrowed.
“I’m familiar with everyone in this town.”
“Because you’re an evil dictator?” he asks, sprawling in his chair.
“Something like that.”
Levitsky shakes his head. “Symes isn’t in the system, so there’s no address for her.”
“The CDA is so inadequate, isn’t it?” I ask in amusement.
“Do you have her address?” he asks calmly. I know I’m getting under his skin, but he seems determined not to let it show again. I’ll have to change that.
“Of course I do. She lives in Oltinie.” Oltinie is Lobrooke’s neighborhood of rogues, beatus who don’t belong to any group or were kicked out of theirs. “She isn’t in town at the moment; she’s on a business trip. How about we pay her a visit tomorrow?”
London frowns. “How do you know she’s on a business trip?”
I point at Levitsky. “The same way I know that he orders a large cup of black coffee at Whoof every morning at five thirty on the dot, and that your den is staying in Trewlir, in a shitty old fixer-upper.” I stand, pulling out a yada and lighting up. “I know everything that goes on here.”
“That’s illegal.” London gestures to my yada and glances at the agent.
“Sure, but he isn’t going to arrest me. One, because it’s a petty fucking crime and I’d be out of lockup by tonight, and two, because I have already demonstrated my value to his investigation, and he won’t fuck it up by pissing me off now.” I blow smoke in London’s face, watching as he inhales it. “What have you brought to this team, Stendahl?”
Levitsky just shakes his head, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out two small black devices, which he places on the table. I frown. “What are those?”
“They’ll alert me of your location when you hit the button. They’re for you two to use if you ever end up in trouble and need help.”
I laugh, picking up the device. “No way.” I toss it at him. “You can keep your damn tracker.”
“It’s for protection.”
“It's for self-incrimination. No thanks.”
“Gonna have to agree with Pudding on this one, mate.” London says, stuffing his device back into the detective’s pocket. “You can keep it.”
“Every agent has one.”
“We’re not agents.”
“Not even close,” I agree. “Now, I’ve got business to take care of, so if you two could leave, that’d be nice.”
“It won’t be used as anything but protection for emer—”
“If you two could leave. That'd be nice,” I repeat, a little more bite in my voice.
Levitsky just looks at me, then sighs and shakes his head as he moves toward the door.
London turns, our eyes meeting. A lopsided grin takes over his face, and he winks at me. I do my best to ignore my warming skin. Once both men are out the door, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
Then I call Mel.
“Yes?”
“I need you to open the club for me tonight. I have a wolf to visit.”
Bullshitting: it's just one of my many skills.
I knew the second I saw Tarae’s byurtid brand that I was going to pay her a visit. Alone. Without London and Levitsky breathing down the back of my neck. All it took to ditch them was a little lie.
♛
Tarae’s house isn’t too big, and like most of the houses in Oltinie, it’s in desperate need of some repairs. Few of the homeowners here have the money or motivation to keep their houses in good condition. Tarae actually does have the money, but since her expulsion from her wolf pack, many in town refuse to work with her—including the local construction company.
I walk up to her house, head low, the hood of my jacket pulled up over my hair. I can feel Tarae in the house, along with one other person—probably one of her byurtids. I don’t want to draw the neighbors’ attention with the sound of knocking—or following my impulse to break the door down altogether—so instead I ring the doorbell.
I hear footsteps in the house, and then the door cracks open to reveal a too-skinny, pale man, with ghastly hollows under his eyes and bruises all over his exposed skin. He’s an imp, and even without the brand on his shoulder, I’d know he was one of Tarae’s byurtids. His appearance says it all; Tarae loves to keep her slaves near death.
The imp just stares at me, and I hear footsteps behind him. Then they stop—Tarae must have caught my scent. “Close the door!” I hear her yell at the byurtid, but he isn’t fast enough as I push past him, sending him flying as the door collides with the wall.
I come face to face with Tarae, and she growls, canines elongating. Fur starts to bristle from her skin.
“None of that, Tarae.” I say, summoning Onyx and raising the sword to her throat. “The second you shift, this sword will go through your neck.”
I hear the pounding of footsteps as the imp comes at me from behind, and I call upon Otmscheniye, pressing it against the man’s stomach the second he reaches me. I don’t penetrate his skin, but I don’t need to—the second the tätowierung touches his skin, he lets out a howl and I hear him retreat. I listen closely for the sounds of any other byurtids, ones I may have missed as I approached the house; they’ll come running when they realize their urewt is in trouble. Protecting their master is part of their bond.
“Shift back,” I order Tarae, looking her in the eyes. Unlike dragons, whose siem form comes naturally, wolves can’t hold an in-between form for long. If Tarae doesn’t shift back to human soon, her wolf will take over completely.
“Shift,” I order again,
my voice firmer, giving her no choice. I’m dominant here.
Tarae’s fur recedes into her tan skin as she glares at me, her canines retreating. Her topaz eyes brim with anger, and her lips press into a hard line.
I hear footsteps behind me, and then I feel two familiar presences.
“What the hell?” Levitsky barks as he walks through the still-open door. I turn to find him looking at my swords as London, a few paces behind, darts glances all around the room—to the wolf, the imp, the furniture. Obviously they don’t trust me, but I can’t say they’re wrong for being suspicious.
“Wait till tomorrow, huh, Pudding?” London asks, slowly approaching me and the wolf.
I put my swords away, calling them back to my arms.
I step away from Tarae as she folds her arms over her chest. “What do you want, Blue?”
“Just paying a friendly visit,” I proclaim.
“Yeah, right. The last time you paid me a friendly visit, something important was stolen from me.”
“You took her virginity?” London quips, and I turn to see him watching us with amusement.
“She wasn’t a virgin,” I reply.
“She took an important artifact from me,” Tarae snaps.
Levitsky shoots me a look and I shrug, making him sigh. “We need your help, Ms. Symes.” He tries to restore order, but really there’s no point. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to bring him along: we’ll never get information from Tarae like this.
“As if I’d help this thief.” Tarae points at me, shaking her head. “She came into my house and seduced me. Then, when I came back from the bathroom, she had disappeared, and my artifact was gone with her. And then she killed one of my byurtids when I sent him to retrieve it.”
“I did no such thing.” A lie. The second her byurtid entered my property, I decapitated him. But technically it was self-defense.
“Why didn’t you report the artifact missing?” asks Levitsky.
Tarae opens her mouth, then snaps it shut again, glaring at me. I smirk back.
“It was something you weren’t supposed to have, so you couldn’t report it.” London hits the nail right on the head, and Tarae huffs out a breath. “You can’t report a theft if the item was stolen in the first place.”
“Get out of my house before I call the law.”
“The law is already here,” I say, gesturing to Levitsky
He pulls out his badge. “Agent Blaine Levitsky, ma’am,” he says, ever calm and collected. “The CDA needs your help with an investigation.”
“Why is she here?” Tarae points at me. “She isn’t an agent.” She eyes London, trying to figure out his status. He just smiles at her.
I smirk. “I’m just a law-abiding citizen trying to help the agency. You should take notes.”
Tarae scoffs, ignoring me to speak to Levitsky. “No, I won’t help the agency. Or that bitch.”
“One of your byurtids,” Levitsky grits the word out, “was caught at the scene of a crime, and we need help identifying him.” He reaches for his tablet, pulling up the video before Tarae can argue. She watches the footage silently, her eyes widening a fraction when Levitsky stops the video on the branded person.
“You know who it is,” I say.
“I’m not telling you. Now leave.”
“Ma’am, if you don’t tell us who the man in this video is, even when you obviously know, you’ll be obstructing justice.”
Tarae starts laughing. “You think I’m scared of an obstruction of justice charge? Yeah, right.”
“It is a laughable charge, isn’t it? Possession of narcotics, illegal weapons, slavery, and murder, though—that’s another story.”
“No one cares about byurtids, and the community would be pissed if you turned me in for that.” She’s looking at Agent Levitsky, but when I open my mouth, her gaze returns to me.
“Maybe if he arrested you on his own. Not if I asked him to.”
Her mouth drops open. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would, and you know it.”
There’s silence in the room before Tarae finally speaks. “His name is Alftripson. He’s a wolf.”
Levitsky nods, clicking away on his tablet. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“He lives with her,” I say.
“What?” Levitsky asks.
“Byurtids live with their urewt unless the urewt grants them the freedom to live on their own. Tarae doesn’t.”
Tarae reluctantly nods. “She’s correct, but I haven’t seen Alftripson in a couple of weeks. I’ve tried summoning him through his brand, but he still hasn’t returned.”
My head raises at that. “Byurtids can’t resist the calling of their mark.”
“Well apparently, he’s found a way to block the summons, or maybe he’s dropped dead by now. When was that video recorded again?”
“‘Bout a week ago,” London supplies.
“He’d already been gone for weeks by that point, and I’d called him several times, so he must be blocking the summons somehow.”
I glance at the byurtid in the corner. There should be more of them here. They should have all come running when I burst in, swords blazing. “He’s not the only one missing, is he?”
She shakes her head, obviously not wanting to tell the truth, but she has no choice. The three dragons in the room would easily be able to tell by her heart rate if she were lying. “No, Roetresias is the only one still here.” She nods at the imp in the corner.
“How many byurtids do you have altogether?” Levitsky questions.
“Eight.”
“And seven are missing?”
“Yes.”
There were about a dozen attackers the other night, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of Tarae’s byurtids were part of that group.
“And you’ve tried to call on them with the mark?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I’ve never heard of a byurtid being able to block a summons before.
“Where did Altripson and the rest of your byurtids like to spend time when they weren’t here?” Levitsky asks.
She shrugs. “The Lair, Whoof, Charisma, Sanction, all of the places that beatus like to hang out.”
Levitsky shakes his head as he types on his tablet, obviously not happy with the lack of substantial information.
“Okay, thank you, Ms. Symes. That’ll be all for today.” He pulls out a card, holding it out to her. She eyes it for a second before taking it. “I’ll be in touch if we need more information.”
She rolls her eyes, following us to the door and watching as we walk away.
“What are you two doing here anyway?” I ask once we’re out of her earshot.
“Well, I was following the detective,” London says, and Levitsky glares at him. “Who was following you. And, well, you were clearly trying to pull a fast one on us, so I guess it was the right thing to do.”
“This is not going to work if we can’t trust each other,” Levitsky says.
“Well, obviously, but you’re the one who was following me, so you don’t have much room to talk.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Because I suspected you were lying earlier, and I was right.” He shakes his head. “We have a lot of work to do, and arguing about trust is not going to help. How about we all agree to be honest from now on.” He sends me a pointed look.
“No promises,” I say, glancing over my shoulder when I feel Tarae’s eyes on my back. I raise a brow at her.
“Watch your back, Blue!” Tarae shouts from her porch.
I cup my hands around my mouth so she’ll hear me: “I always do!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Turns out Tarae’s the one who should have been watching her back, because the morning after our visit, a couple of unlucky kids discover her nearly unrecognizable body hanging from a tree in the park.
She was dead before she was hanged. Her tongue was cut out and nailed to her forehead, but it didn’t end there—most of her s
kin was melted off as well. Using the same chemical that Paris and I were attacked with, I suspect.
“Well that’s a mess, isn’t it?” London asks. I feel his body heat near my back as he walks up behind me at the crime scene. Because our partnership with the CDA is supposed to be a secret, I have to stand here behind the line like a regular civilian; I’d probably have to knock out a couple of agents to get closer to the crime scene.
I snort, watching as a group of CDA officers start to lower her body. “Obviously she pissed someone off.”
Agent Levitsky turns to look at us, no doubt hearing my words from twenty feet away. I shrug when he shoots me a glare, tilting my head to look at London.
His usual amused expression isn’t quite in full force this morning, but there is a bit of a twinkle in his eyes as he looks down at me. I look past him to where Paris and a guy with tan skin and dark hair lounge beside a car, watching us. The man smiles, wiggling his fingers at me when he meets my gaze.
“Who’s the guy with your sister?”
“My cousin, Talon.”
“Hmmm.” I turn back around, watching as the officers quickly zip Tarae into a body bag.
Alenin walks up next to Levitsky, and I motion for London to be quiet before he can start speaking again. I need to eavesdrop, and it’ll be harder to hear anything if London’s running his mouth.
“She did this,” Alenin says sharply.
“Who?” Levitsky asks, a note of sarcasm in his voice.
“Blue.”
“This isn’t the place to talk about it, Alenin. Too many ears.”
“Bu—”
“Not now.”
“Really not surprising that they think it’s you, is it, Pudding?” London says, his mouth close to my ear.
I take a step away to the side and turn my head to meet his eyes. “I suppose not.” I search his face, wondering why he’s really here. Surely it isn’t to listen to agents speculate, again, about the chance that I’m the serial killer they’re looking for. “What do you want, Stendahl?”
“Just came to check out the action, Pudding,” he says, stepping forward into my space once again, his chest pressing against my back, his hand gently touching mine and sending sparks through me. I’m about to pull away when I feel him place something soft in my hand.
