by Quirah Casey
London looks up from the papers, already shaking his head. “No, you still have a rat in your den, remember?”
“Shit, you’re right.” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, considering it’s not something I’m used to.
“I can get Paris and Talon to come help.” He straightens, and I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he taps his fingers against the wooden table. “That way we can lessen the chances of your mole coming with us.” He nods to himself, his eyes unfocused for a second before sharpening. “For the rest of the group, you can pick people who wouldn’t have any chance of getting into your office and those you trust the most.”
“I can’t trust anyone but Mel.”
His fingers start to tap a little faster, and I refrain from raising a brow. “Well, then, you’ll just have to pray to the gods that you don’t end up with the mole.”
I scoff at that. “I don’t pray to the gods.”
London inhales sharply. “You don’t believe in the gods?” he asks. When I look at him, his golden eyes are boring into me.
“No, I believe in the gods. I know for a fact that they’re real.” If it weren’t for one god in particular, there’s no telling where I’d be now. “I just choose not to worship those who used to keep our kind as slaves.” Anyway, the only god I consider worthy of my praise is just a phone call away. So I won’t be praying any time soon.
I push those thoughts away, not wanting to fall into the rabbit hole of my disgust for the gods. “Let's get back to work and stop talking about people who haven’t had to do such a thing in their lifetimes.” I start writing names on a new sheet of paper, putting Talon and Paris at the top. Out of habit, I start to write Dina’s name, and then I pause.
“Do you think it could be Dina?” I ask Mel, looking up as I think over the possibility.
Mel opens her mouth to defend the wyryn, and then she closes it.
“That’s the one who’s always fucking up, right?” London asks, looking up from his own stack of papers. “Went with us to trap Alftripson?”
“Yes.”
“Oh yeah, it’s totally possible that it’s her, unless she’s always been a fuck-up. But there’s no way you’d let someone so prone to mistakes that high up in your den hierarchy.”
“Shit.” He makes more sense than I’d like to admit, and I’m not stupid enough to take such a risk. “Alright, I won’t put her on the list. If nothing goes ass-up, we’ll know she’s the mole.” I write Klara’s name instead. “And if she is, I’ll deal with her personally.”
I continue to list names, trying to push away thoughts of Dina’s possible betrayal. She was the first person to join my den. Other than Mel, of course. We met Dina right after we came to the US. At the time, she was a contract hit woman with no friends, no family, and no loyalty to anyone. She was as tough as nails, and such a damn good fighter that I knew I had to get her on my side. Luckily, she was ready to retire from the assassin life.
A choice I wish I’d had.
If Dina is betraying me, it will hurt my ego and my heart. But I won’t hesitate to put her down.
I step away from the others. “I’ll call Butch and see if she wants to come along.”
“The little pixie?” London questions, his brows wrinkling.
I have to keep from rolling my eyes. “Yes, the little pixie. She packs a hell of a punch, and you’ve never seen her really wield that shotgun.” When I found Butch, all she had was that gun and the clothes on her back. There’s much more to that weapon than meets the eye, and even I still don’t know the full extent of its magic. I don’t think Butch is even fully aware.
“Yeah, I’m starting to notice that most of the women in this town pack a mean punch. That’s probably why my sister and I like it here so much.” He gives me a wink, a smile curling his lips and warming my body.
Feeling Mel’s gaze, I look over to find her raising a brow at me. I glare at her and she rolls her eyes before looking back down at the paper on her lap. I don’t miss the tension in her shoulders.
“I think this may be the right one,” she says after a second, sliding a paper toward me. “It’s close to Sanction and has an underground tunnel. I wouldn’t be surprised if they use that to get around town undetected. You know how you couldn’t pick up Alftripson’s scent and thought he was using something to disguise it? Well, he wouldn’t have needed to if he was using the tunnels.”
“Shit, that makes a lot of sense.” London shoots Mel a quick glance of approval. “That could be why they had that town map—to figure out the tunnel system.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” There are tunnels under all of Lobrooke, but besides the creatures who like to dwell in the darkness and sewage, no one’s really used them in the last decade.
“You can’t figure out everything by yourself, no matter how hard you try,” Mel remarks, and she opens her mouth like she's about to start a lecture before closing it and rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “All we need now is for Neema to call and confirm that Blaine is there. They may have taken him somewhere else.”
“Okay, but if there’s even a chance that’s where he is, we need to start game planning our attack.” I drag the paper closer to me, studying the small blueprint of the building. It has two levels, not including the tunnels. Luckily, it’s not on Oltinie’s main street, so we’re not likely to run into passersby, but like Mel said, it isn’t far from Sanction. If our enemies are working with the pixies at the bar, they’ll be close, and easily able to provide some strong magical backup for our foe. Still, I’m not worried. Butch is the only truly tough pixie I know.
“Hell,” I rub my temples. “This is going to be harder than I thought. I’m used to putting together a plan for a one-woman crew.” Because I never need backup.
“Well, lucky for you, I’m an expert at working with an actual team,” London says, smirking as he starts tapping his fingers again. “As you’ll remember from our first encounter.”
It’s hard to believe that we met just a few weeks ago. It feels like he’s been annoying me for much longer. “You really want to remind me that I still owe you four bullet holes and a good ass-kicking?” I grimace at the memory. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the favors you owe me.” Or that he took Olyvia Hynt away. For now, though, I’ll let him think that I’m not intent on finding her the second we have Uytre.
“Of course not, Pudding.” He starts doodling on a piece of paper, and within five minutes he’s sliding over a full drawing of the house and its surroundings, indicating where we should enter, where the backup should stay put, and how the offensive group should be split up.
My phone rings as he’s explaining his surprisingly impressive plan.
“What’ve you got for me?” I ask Neema, and she gives me the exact coordinates of the last place Blaine’s phone was turned on. It’s only a couple streets away from the house we’ve identified.
I hang up the phone. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a plan,” I tell London and Mel.
“So this is the correct location?” London inquires.
“Looks like it.” I stand up, pushing away from the table as anticipation courses through me. “London, get your people ready. Mel, get ours. I’ll get the weapons.”
I head down to the weapons room with a spring in my step. While it’s probably not the most appropriate emotion, I’m definitely excited. This is our best lead yet. I’m so close to meeting the maniac who thinks it’s a good idea to challenge me. I laugh at the thought.
My phone rings and I pause to answer it.
“Blue?” Marie’s voice comes across the line when I answer. “Mel said you found a lead.”
“Yeah, we’re about go out now.” I examine a shelf of blades, picking one with the green tint of nabesy. I sheath it and stick it in my boot.
“Well, I just wanted to call and remind you to be careful.” She lowers her voice. “You have the girls to worry about, and they need their mom.”
/> I sigh. Even Marie is starting to doubt my parental skills. I know she didn’t mean the words that way, but the thought still wipes away my excitement. “I know, Marie.”
There’s a small pause. “And I need you, too.”
“No, you don’t. Not anymore.” Marie may have been a timid, broken young girl when I met her, but now she’s a capable, independent woman. Somehow, she’s even managed to hold onto her soul despite the shit she’s been through. I wish I could say the same about myself. “But you don’t need to worry either way, because nothing is going to happen to me. As soon as I eliminate this threat, we’re going on a family vacation. Ru can even come.” Yeah, that’ll be a good way to get everything back on track, and I’ll be able to spend time with the people I actually care about.
Another short pause and the slamming of a door. “She’s pissed at you, you know. Still mad that you sent her away.”
Of course she’s still pissed; she’s always been stubborn. “I know.” I’ll have to finally deal with Ru after this all is over.
“Auntie Marie! I want to speak to my mom!” Quest’s loud, determined voice comes from the background.
“Your mom is bus—”
“She’s always busy!” I can’t ignore the pang in my chest as her snarky words hit home. “Give me the phone.”
“Put her on the phone, Marie.”
There’s the sound of rustling before Quest’s voice comes across the line. “Mom, I want to come home!”
“In a couple of days. And watch how you talk to Marie. She’s a grown-up, and you need to show her more respect.” Quest, my problem child, reminds me so much of myself. I often wonder if I’m raising her properly.
“Yes, ma’am,” she replies, but I don’t miss the irritation in her tone.
“Where is Journey?”
“Ru-Ru is doing her hair and then she’s going to paint her nails. I want to go flying but Ru-Ru is being a meanie pants and said no.” I can hear the impending temper tantrum. I’m sure it won’t be the first of the day.
“When I come get you guys we’ll go flying, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you. Tell Ru and Journey I love them too.” I take a breath, just listening to the sound of her soft breaths for a second. “Mommy has to go.”
“Okay, I love you too.” The line goes dead, and I lean against the wall, closing my eyes. My excitement is long gone.
I need to stay focused and serious, save Agent Levitsky, and eliminate the threat. I need to make sure my girls can return to a safe home, and I need to make sure I’ll be there to raise them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The first thing we do is set up our comm system.
“Am I really supposed to stick it this far in my ear?” London asks, frowning as he pushes the small, round device into his ear. The comms are not industry standard. The den only has them because of Neema; they’re something she makes and sells to us exclusively. The inconspicuous earpieces are paired with electronic, touch-screen wristbands.
“Yes, all the way in there,” I tell him. I’m not thrilled to be sharing my trade secrets with the Stendahls, but I know it’s the best option. If we want this mission to go smoothly, everyone needs to be in the loop, including London, his sister, and their cousin.
Paris Stendahl continues to eye her own comm, her lips contorted into a frown.
“Think it’s really a bomb?” I ask her, refraining from rolling my eyes.
Her gold eyes roam over me in disgust. “With you? Yeah,” she replies, but she finally raises the device to her ear and pushes it in without hesitation.
“This is bloody brilliant,” Talon, London’s perky cousin says. He doesn’t seem to have any hang-ups like his family, and he taps at his wristband in childlike excitement. “There’s even a music option on here.”
I clap my hands at him. “Hey, happy fingers, we’re on a serious mission. Now is not the time to listen to your favorite girl group.” I reach over and pause his song.
“Fine, be a sourpuss then,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out his lip.
“This is why I don’t work with men,” I mutter, moving away from the overgrown man-child. I finish making sure everyone’s comms and wristbands are calibrated correctly before we split into pairs.
“All you have to do to turn on the general communication line is tap the screen twice. To turn it off, tap twice again. If you want to contact someone personally, tap three times, and your contact options will appear on the screen. And no music,” I say, eyeing Talon, who offers me a cheshire grin. “Now, let's get to it. Those of you who are only here for backup, we’ll drop you off first. Stay alert.” The plan is to leave ten people in an abandoned house nearby in case we need support. Another two people will stay at the perimeter with an invisibility charm to serve as lookouts. London, Mel, Paris, Talon, Cherilyn, Klara, Butch, and myself will infiltrate the house. We’ll split off into prearranged pairs and search the place for Blaine. That’s the priority, apparently. After we get Blaine, if he’s still alive, we’ll take him to safety and then rain hell down on the house. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter if I have to take the leader dead or alive.
They won’t escape this time.
We drop off the backup team and the lookouts, and then the rest of us split into the pairs assigned by London. For some reason, I’m with Paris, despite the fact that the little blonde and I don’t get along in the slightest. But according to London, our skills match up and we’ll be a great pair. I don’t believe it, but we’ll see. Mel ends up with Talon, and London goes with Butch, leaving Klara and Cherilyn together.
The house is eerily quiet, and we forgo invisibility charms. The house is probably warded against them anyway, and we don’t want to risk setting off any alarms. Paris and I wander down a long hall. She goes first—I’d be an idiot to trust her to be at my back when she shot me the first night we met. We’re cautious, but I can’t feel or hear anyone. When I come across a glyph on one of the walls, I realize why: all presences are being shielded. I recognize the glyph, and I know that it only mutes the presences of a select few, meaning that even though we can’t feel them, our enemies will most certainly be aware of us.
I guess they’re not as dumb as I thought.
Paris halts and points to one of the doors. Slowly, she turns the knob and pushes the door open. When nothing happens, she continues into the room, and I follow, closing the door behind us. It looks like we’re in some type of library, the walls lined with row upon row of books. A messy, wooden desk sits in the center of the room.
I walk over to the desk and look down at the papers covering its surface. One sticks out in particular, the words A&Y Research Facility written across the top. I turn away. I’ll come back for the papers if I can, but I file the name of the facility away in my memory just in case.
I catch Paris’s eye and point to the door.
“You don’t want to look around in here more?” she drawls, louder than I’d like, her accent as annoying as her brother’s.
I glare at her. “No, we’re wasting our time here. Let’s go.”
She rolls her eyes but opens the door to the study. She sticks her head out into the hallway, looking both ways before striding out.
We continue down the hall, checking doors, all of which lead to useless rooms. As I’m closing one, I hear footsteps, and I straighten, readying myself for the attack that I know is coming.
A huge lion bounds down the hallway, a smaller wolf on his heels, both of them growling and slobbering at the mouth.
My claws emerge and my skin changes as I run at the lion, colliding with him, his soft fur pressing against my scales. I don’t have time to look up, but I hear grunts and whimpers as Paris takes on the wolf.
I throw the lion against the wall, hearing a crunch before he falls to the floor. Without a second thought, I reach down and snap his neck. Before I can rise, I’m attacked from behind. I hit the ground hard, but I roll in time to avoid a w
olf's snapping teeth at my throat. It’s a new one; the first is dead, lying on the ground beside Paris, who’s now fending off a vampire. I call for Onyx and plunge her through the wolf’s neck.
I just barely manage to dodge a cougar as it sprints at me. My blood is pumping fast now, and I can’t help the small smile that crosses my face as I boot the cougar across the room, where Paris snaps its neck. I draw Otmscheniye, holding both swords firmly as I see more attackers emerge at the end of the hall.
The next few minutes are a whirl of blades and blood.
Eventually the attacks stop, and I look around to find well over a dozen bodies on the floor.
Paris is covered in blood, none of which appears to be hers. Her golden scales shine through her skin, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Took you long enough,” she taunts me. “I finished off my last attacker minutes ago.”
“I didn’t need your help, I could’ve handled them all on my own,” I tell her, shucking the blood off my swords before I draw them back into my arms, where tattoos appear to indicate the swords within.
Paris watches the swords disappear, open-mouthed. “Nice trick,” she breathes admiringly, and then, catching herself, she turns on her heel and marches down the hall.
I frown, stepping over bodies to follow her. “As much as you seem to like long-range guns, I didn’t expect that you could actually fight,” I say, still bitter about the bullets she put in my back on our first encounter.
She laughs. “I’m not my brother’s head tabe just because I’m his sister. I’m his head tabe because I tore apart the competition, male and female alike. I’m not just a good fighter. I’m excellent.”
Okay, maybe I can see why London paired us together. I wonder if I can get Paris to switch dens. “You know, you could be a part of a much more powerful den, one where you wouldn’t have to listen to the orders of some man—”
“My brother.”
“You’d be surrounded by other strong women—”
“Are you really trying to recruit me right now?”
I shrug, though she doesn’t see it. “I’m an opportunist.”
