The Blue Devil

by Quirah Casey

  Blaine’s head swivels, his eyes meeting mine and narrowing. Even though he and Alenin don’t seem to mesh well as partners, I can tell I hit a nerve, and I smirk at that.

  “No, Alenin is just fine. He was outside the warehouse, but many innocent and good people lost their lives. You could be more sensitive about that.”

  I shrug. “Sensitivity isn’t my thing, Agent, and you came at me first. Don’t poke the beast and expect it not to wake up.”

  “Gods.” London hops off my desk, shaking his head. “I feel like I’m dealing with children.”

  I look around for something to throw at London, but Mel already took my stapler, so I reach down to my boot.

  “Don’t you dare throw a knife at him,” Mel warns, catching my movement. I can’t get shit past her. “He’s right, Blue. You and Agent Levitsky need to stop arguing. It’s getting us nowhere.”

  “We need to continue brainstorming and going over the papers you collected while the trail is still hot. Kiss and make up so we can get to work.” London eyes my hand, still paused at the top of my boot. “And stop trying to hurt me.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t be trying if you weren’t such a smart-ass.” I glance at Blaine, propping my feet up on the desk. “I can act right for the next couple hours, but only if Levitsky stops taking shots at me.”

  London looks at Blaine, who shrugs. “As long as she stops being so insensitive about the agents who lost their lives today.”

  “Well,” London sighs. “I’m not a therapist, but it sounds like we can make this thing work for the next few hours. Let’s start by going through all the papers.”

  We split up the stack. The papers have all dried by now, so we don’t have to worry about anyone’s fingers melting when they touch them. I recline in my office chair, cigar in one hand and papers in the other. London lies down on the floor next to my desk, papers strewn in front of him, while Mel and Blaine stay on the couch.

  I end up with the paper that includes the list of byurtid names. Some of the names are scratched off, some are circled, and others have question marks next to them. There are only two circled names: Itral Maet and Oeiny Poel.

  “Mel, what were the names of the faerie and pixie I saved?”

  “Oeniy and Itral,” she says, not looking up from the paper in her hands.

  “Anyone find anything interesting yet?” London asks.

  “We just started like ten minutes ago,” Blaine reminds him.

  “I may have found something, but I’ll wait to see if I find anything better before I share my idea. There are too many bleeding hearts in this room, and I don’t feel like arguing about my proposal, which is a great one, by the way.” I put the list of names to the side.

  “If you think it’s a good idea, then I’m afraid to hear it,” London mutters.

  “Trust me, it’s a bad idea if she already knows she’s going to have to argue with us about it,” Mel says, still not looking up.

  “Wow, some best friend you are. I mean, really, Mel, just because you’re pissed at me doesn’t mean you’re not obligated to take my side.”

  She just grunts, and the room descends into focused silence once again. The next paper I pore over is a list of every shop in town. Most are highlighted blue, like Fran’s Franchise, a couple are highlighted yellow, Charisma and Sparkle among them, and the rest are red.

  “Interesting.”

  “What?” Mel asks. I look up and find her eyes on me. She gestures to the paper. “What’s interesting?”

  “The way this stuff is highlighted. I know there’s a pattern, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

  She gets up and walks over to me, standing behind my chair and peering over my shoulder at the list. She studies it silently for a moment. “Oh,” she says softly.

  I look up at her, raising a brow. “Oh, what? Did you figure out the pattern?”

  Her finger runs over the paper. “I may be wrong, but I think the blue ones are our allies, like Fran and Nate”—Nate is the owner of Whoof—“the red ones are our enemies, like the pixies and rogues you pissed off at Sanction, and yellow represents people who are usually allied with you, but have opposed you on certain things. They could probably be turned against you if approached. Ona was pissed at you when Duemon was killed, and naturally the people over at Sparkle were mad too, since the faeries in town are all so close.”

  “You got all that from five seconds of looking at a piece of paper?” Blaine’s impressed tone makes us all look up at him. “Have you ever thought about working for the CDA?”

  “Hands off, Agent. She’s mine, and there’s no fucking way she’s working for the CDA.”

  London jumps to his feet and comes over to look at the paper on my desk. “I think I recall the faerie and pixie we rescued mentioning that they heard about Alftripson and his offer at Sanction.”

  “That’s right, and Tarae said that her byurtids liked to hang there,” Blaine agrees.

  “We definitely need to check Sanction out, then.”

  “Why do the owners hate you?” Blaine asks.

  “They’re jealous because The Lair is bigger and better than their place,” I don’t try to hide my smugness. “Sanction was the number one club in town before I arrived.”

  He frowns. “Surely there’s more to it than that?”

  I shrug. “Maybe I decapitated a pixie or two when they came to threaten me back in the day…” His mouth drops open. “…Or maybe I didn’t. Either way, the statute of limitations is up and no one ever found the bodies.” I smile brightly at him.

  “You’re a maniac. What the hell am I doing here?” Blaine mutters to himself. London shakes his head, but I don’t miss the way the corners of his lips turn up.

  “What was the other idea you had? The one we’re going to argue about?” London questions.

  “Oh, it’s a simple one, actually. That paper—” I point to the one with the list of byurtids—“includes the names of the faerie and pixie I saved. They’re the only names circled, and I’m positive that our enemies are looking for them. They need to tie up loose ends.”

  “Okay, and what does that have to do with anything?”

  I shake my head, sighing. “I feel like I’m working with imbeciles sometimes. It clearly means that we should use the faerie or pixie as bait.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “There’s no way we’re using the pixie and faerie as bait.” Blaine’s eyes widen as he raises his voice.

  I roll my eyes. “Of course not. We only need to use one of them. The other one can stay safe in the hideaway that I’m generously letting them use.” I purse my lips.

  Blaine shakes his head, backing away from me and turning to pace the room as London and Mel shoot me glares. “We don’t need to do this,” Blaine argues. “We have new leads to check out. We don’t have to throw innocent people into the line of danger.”

  I knew that it was going to be hard to make them see reason, to see that this is our best option. This is why I prefer to work alone. “It’s clear that our opponent has the town under surveillance. The second we send one of their targets out as bait, they'll come after them, and we’ll be right there to intercept. The bait won’t technically be in any danger.”

  It’s a simple plan.

  Blaine stops pacing, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the others for help. “No. We can go over to Sanction and wait for our enemies to show their faces. That seems to be where they’re doing their recruiting. It’s the safest bet.”

  I scoff. “I’m not allowed within a hundred feet of Sanction.”

  “That’s true,” Mel says at the same time that London asks, “And you’d let that stop you?”

  I can’t help but feel offended. “No, I’m not letting that stop me, London. I’m just saying that if I show up there, there’ll be a commotion. Which will tip off the people we’re looking for.”

  “You don’t have to be the one to go to Sanction. London and I can go,” Blaine suggests.

 
“He’s right,” Mel agrees, and when I glare at her, she simply shrugs. “I’m just being logical. You can’t go into Sanction without causing a stir. I can’t go either because everyone knows I’m your second.”

  “We don’t fucking need to go to Sanction at all! We have a better option right in front of us!” I snap at them. What do they not understand? Judging from the list I found, the pixie and faerie are being hunted, which means the second we let one of them reappear in public, our enemies will come running. Plus, if it does go to shit and the pixie or faerie get hurt, so what? We already have the information we need from them; they have nothing else to offer us.

  “We’re not the bad guys! We don’t endanger innocent people!” Blaine snaps back, his black eyes narrowing into slits, his nails sharpening into claws.

  “Oh yeah, we’re supposed to be the good guys,” I sneer sarcastically, feeling my own siem form take over. “Well, being good has left us steps behind our enemy. It’s time to start playing hardball, Levitsky! Or else we’ll never catch our enemy, and then we’ll all be dead!” I’m practically shouting now, my gaze clashing with Blaine’s in a battle of wills.

  “If they come to blows, I’m getting the hell out of here. You with me, Mel?” London’s voice breaks the thick, tense silence that has enveloped the room.

  “If they come to blows, you’d better hope this whole building doesn’t go down in flames,” Mel mutters, irritation coloring her tone.

  “What do you say, Stendahl?” I ask, turning to look at him where he’s reclining against the wall, watching us like we’re the best side show he’s seen in ages. “Do you think we should take the pussy’s way out and go to Sanction, or do you think we should use the bait we have at our disposal?”

  “I think that you both need anger management counseling.”

  I pull a knife from my boot and throw it at him. He dodges out of the way, and the blade embeds in the wall where he was just standing. “My case in point,” he says, gesturing to the knife.

  “Shit. No more knife-throwing, Blue,” Mel hisses, stepping closer to me.

  “Since you’re asking on threat of death, as a matter of fact, I do think that we should use the faerie or the pixie as bait.” London gives me a half-smile of compliance. “It won’t be long before the person we’re looking for makes another big move, and if we don’t up our game soon, more innocent people will be hurt.” He looks at Blaine, whose mouth is hanging open, and shrugs. “Think of it this way, Agent. The lives of two—or one, I guess—versus the lives of many. Plus, if Blue is right, the bait won’t be in any real trouble.”

  “Finally, someone sees reason.” I huff. “Maybe you’re not the person I should have thrown the knife at.” I give Blaine a meaningful look.

  “I can’t believe you’re agreeing with her atrocious plan,” Blaine spits, shaking his head. “Still, it’s a tie. Mel agrees with me.”

  I glance at Mel before shaking my head. “Her vote doesn’t count. For starters, she’s not a real member of this team. And she also has to do what I say. I’m her palha.”

  “That’s not fair!” Blaine shouts.

  “That’s fucking life. I know you don’t have the solidarity and loyalty of a den, but that’s how these things work, Agent.”

  Blaine looks to Mel, hoping for backup.

  Mel tips her head back against the wall and sighs before meeting Blaine’s gaze. “She’s right, Blaine. I have to listen to her.”

  “Great!” I smile, suddenly cheerful. “Then we’re using the faerie or pixie as bait.”

  “Thanks to your stupid den politics. For the record, I’m still not agreeing to this,” Blaine mutters.

  “Doesn’t matter if you agree or not. We’ve voted.” I stand up, clapping my hands together. “Let’s go, people.”

  “Wait.” Blaine holds up a hand. “We need a plan.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I think it’s fairly obvious what the plan is, Agent. We—or maybe just Mel and I—will go to the safe house, grab some bait, and let her go. We’ll watch her, wait for someone to grab or attack her, and then intercept that person, bring them back here, and interrogate them.”

  Blaine shakes his head. “No, there’s so much that could go wrong with that. We need to decide who will watch the bait.” He winces. “And we need to figure out how we’re going to tell her our plan so she can be in on it.”

  “She doesn’t need to be in on it, Agent. She just needs to be there.” I’m starting to think that Blaine feels the need to oppose me at every turn. It’s getting ridiculous, and he passed annoying twenty objections ago.

  “Levitsky’s actually right on this one, Pudding.” London chimes in, before ducking behind Mel and looking at me over her shoulder.

  Blaine and I just stare at him blankly. Mel tilts her head up toward his so he can see her raised brow.

  London steps out from behind her and shrugs, running his hands down his jeans. “I knew that if I was standing behind Mel, you wouldn’t throw a knife at me.” A boyish grin overtakes his face, and he pats Mel on the shoulder. “Thanks for protecting me, love.”

  “You don’t think I could have thrown a knife at you without hitting her?” I ask. “I’m a world-renowned…” I pause, remembering the CDA agent in the room.

  “Villain,” Blaine finishes my sentence, not an ounce of amusement in his voice.

  “I think she was going to say hit woman, but I guess villain works too,” London says, smiling at me.

  “No one asked for comments from the peanut gallery.” I huff out a sigh. “The longer we wait, the more time we lose.”

  Blaine opens his mouth—no doubt to argue—but his phone rings and he pauses, looking down at the screen. He grimaces. “Agent Levitsky. Yes...no...yes…Okay, I’m on my way.” He hangs up and stuffs the phone into his pocket. “I have to go.”

  “What? We’re in the middle of game-planning,” London whines, his face falling.

  “I have to go in to headquarters. They need me to go over my statement.”

  “Really? What time is it? It has to be too early for them to be calling you.”

  “It’s eight a.m. We’ve been in this room for hours, trying to come up with a solution. I have to go to work, or my superiors will start asking questions.”

  London starts to object, but I cut him off. “Just go. We’ll meet up later. You go too, Stendahl. There’s no point in you hanging around unless we’re all here.” I turn to Mel. “See the agent out, please. We’ll regroup tonight.”

  Mel leads Blaine out the door, but not without frowning at me first. I pause on the way back to my desk. “I told you to leave,” I mutter at London without looking up.

  “You’re up to something,” London says, and I turn to find him watching me carefully, his golden eyes narrowed.

  I lean against my desk, arms folded over my chest. “I don’t know what would make you think that. All I’m doing is putting my office back together. Then, while I wait for you and Blaine to get your shit together, I’m going to take those vials of poison to someone who can make us an antidote. As fun as it’s been, I’d love to stop bleeding myself dry for people I don’t give two shits about.”

  London closes the gap between us until he’s crowding me, the tips of his feet pressed against mine. The woodsy smell that I’ve started to associate with him engulfs me as he leans forward, his hands on the desk on either side of me.

  “You’re lying.” His warm breath fans across my skin.

  “I’m not,” I say, watching his lips. His tongue emerges to run across his top lip slowly. One of his hands moves closer to me, brushing against my side.

  “Pudding, you’re not fooling me,” he says, his lips right against my ear now, close enough to brush against my skin. His body presses against mine: hard, warm, and absolutely tempting.

  My heartbeat starts to pick up as tingles course through my body and heat engulfs my core, fast and intense. There’s something about London that gets to me. I’ve slept with thousands of people over the last c
entury, but none of them has affected me the way London Stendahl does.

  I don’t like it.

  “And you’re not fooling me, Pudding.” I press my hands against his shoulders and shove him away, sending him stumbling back. “Stop trying to seduce me, and get the fuck out of my club.”

  He laughs bitterly as he regains his balance. “Admit it. For a second, I had you ready to lie down on that desk and let me have my way with you, didn’t I?”

  I let out my own laugh, but it comes out wrong, forced. “I guess you’ll never know.”

  “I heard your heartbeat, Blue.” He backs away until he’s at the door, his eyes never leaving me. “One of these days, you’ll cave.”

  “Not likely.”

  His face goes serious. “Don’t think I forgot that you’re up to something.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything stupid, Pudding.” Words I’ve heard on many occasions. The door closes behind him and I sigh, getting my bearings.

  I retrieve my knife from the wall and return it to my boot.

  London was right. Of course I was lying.

  There’s no way I’m going to sit around and wait on the team when I know what I need to do.

  I’ll grab the pixie or the faerie, and I’ll wait for the person plotting against me to take the bait. After all, I’ve carried the case this far. Why stop now?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Come on, you’re free to go,” I tell the pixie as I open the door to her room in the safe house. The faerie is asleep in the other bedroom, her soft snores reaching my sensitive ears. That’s a stroke of luck, one less thing to explain.

  “What?” the pixie asks, frowning and looking around as if she expected someone else. It’s obvious that she isn’t happy to see me.

  That’s why I picked her instead of the faerie: if I’m going to put someone at risk of death, let it be someone who irritates me. In my opinion, ninety-nine percent of pixies are annoying, ungrateful little twits. No one will be too upset if one becomes collateral damage.

  “You’re free to go,” I repeat slowly. “I’m going to drive you to town and drop you off at whatever shithole you crawled out of.” I gesture for her to hurry up. “Come on, or you’ll find yourself walking back to Oltinie. It’s not a short trip.” This safe house is nowhere near Lobrooke. Nor are the other dozen I have scattered throughout the states. Hell, I even have safe houses overseas. This safe house in particular is about three hours from home. Now that I’ve had to house the pixie and faerie here, I’ll have to sell or tear down this location. It’s a disappointment; I actually liked this hideaway. It’s peaceful and safely off the grid, which is why I bought it years ago.