Supernatural Syndicate: A Limited Edition Collection of Magical Mafia Stories

by Thea Atkinson

  "Hale Saint," said a gritty-edged voice. "As I live and don't breathe."

  I knew the voice but the information did nothing to quell my silent, pained anger. Rather, it turned the smoldering anger into a seething rage.

  "Errol," I said to the incubus, knowing even as I said his name that he was flanked by several werewolves. I could smell them, the wet fur and manky stink of holing up too close together too often.

  I didn't move a muscle of my neck to save myself another lancing bite of agony filtering though my hair roots. Instead, I crabbed my fingers into my pocket till they found the blade. I uncoiled it from the string of broken links that had once been my crucifix.

  "If you know what's good for you," I said in a quiet voice. "You'll let me go. Tell your dogs to back off."

  He laughed over my head, and I had the feeling it was showtime for his shifter buddies.

  "I know many things that are good for me," Errol said. "One of them is to feed my dogs fresh meat every full moon."

  "It's not the full moon," I said. "So you can tell them to go beg for their rations somewhere else."

  As the wolves came into the light, I thought better of pulling the cross hilt from my pocket. They were all fur and muscle and sinew and hard, very hard bones beneath it all. I didn't want to risk harming the cross any further. Instead, I shoved it deeper into its burrow of fabric. I kept a pistol in a holster behind my back, but it was unloaded after I'd emptied it into a werewolf the day before. The call for the nunnery hadn't needed silver bullets.

  So, it seemed I'd have to rely on good, old fashioned muscle.

  No demon enjoys getting punched in the stomach and I was in perfect form for it. I fired two swift jabs into Errol's soft belly. It took two more, plus a pinch of his left nipple before Errol let go.

  He either stepped away or was forced back, but thankfully, he released his hold of my hair. I threw another punch, awkwardly, not ready to let go my rage. It didn't land, not that I was surprised, but it did put off balance. Again.

  The werewolves growled but they didn't attack.

  "Scared, huh?" I said to the shadows that shifted on nervous feet.

  One of them stepped forward, but Errol lifted his hand and stopped him. I swung rheumy eyes to the incubus. He was all washed in a haze of red. He was wearing Hugo Boss, a strange vanity for an incubus who had lost most of his powers in a deal with me dozens of years earlier. I wasn't sure why he'd dress to impress unless he'd taken to trying old fashioned charm to get what he wanted.

  I swallowed down the growl that rumbled in my own chest.

  "My boys don't scare easily, Saint," Errol said in response to my comment. "But somethings off with you. And it intrigues me to see what that might be."

  I swung on him, regaining my balance, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Damned portal.

  "Losing your mind again, Saint?" his chortle annoyed me.

  "Fuck you," I ground out and the voice, though mine, had dropped a register.

  "I do love a good fuck," he said and circled me, his protection fanning out at his motion to do so. "Especially when I'm in need of a good dinner."

  He flicked his wrist and one of them came at me. Instinct saved me and that was it. I ducked and swung, my fist flying out and grabbing a handful of furry throat.

  "I'm not here on assignment," I said. "I'm just here to meet someone."

  The werewolf gnashed at me with bared teeth. I leaned sideways just in time to avoid a nasty bite.

  "Trust me," I said through teeth clenched against the burn still slicing through my lungs from the journey in. "I'm not interested in you or claiming any sort of money you owe me."

  Just like that, the wolf let me go and he phased back into a half-man, half-beast as I watched. The crunching of bone met my ears and I winced involuntarily as they reassembled themselves into a burly, but still hairy man who crossed his arms over his chest.

  "I don't owe you anything," Errol said.

  I shrugged. "Whatever you think doesn't matter to me at the moment."

  He did owe me. The bargain I'd forced a fae to make to grant him a good quarter of his powers back did not come cheap. He'd not paid me the full amount and I'd not gone looking because he'd been holed up in this damn bazaar ever since. "I'm looking for Rosario."

  "Grace?" Errol said, his eyes narrowing to slits. I thought I could see the shadowy movement of his membranous wings flick out behind him, but I shook the image from my mind. He didn't have those anymore. Hadn't had them in near a century.

  "Yes," I said, ignoring what my eyes insisted in telling me was wrong. "Rosario Grace. Don't read too much into it." I said as an afterthought. The last thing I wanted was for Errol to think something was wrong with me. He was already suspicious and he was too cunning to have poking about my business.

  "No one has seen Rosario in fifty years." He edged closer, sniffing, I thought, trying to scent untruth in the air. "Why are you really here."

  I held still beneath his scrutiny. "Then I guess I'll have to settle for the next best thing. You know of a fae-born witch works at the Kennel?"

  It was bold and bald to lay the need out there like that but I was losing time. Just because I wanted fae magic didn't have to mean I was losing my grip on the demon.

  He stepped even closer. His brawn shuffled around him in a tight cluster.

  "You look a little wan," he said. "Like a ghost of yourself. You having trouble with the demon again?"

  I didn't answer the taunt. Having trouble with the demon was a mild euphemism for the Half Century slaughter the rest of the supernatural world called what I'd done in the guise of the demon the last time the stone broke.

  "You still have a taste for children?" he said. "I can hook you up with a few. One of our witches has acquired several six year olds--"

  "I just told you I'm not here on business."

  He waved his hand as he barked out a laugh. "That's not business. It's pleasure." He eyed me thoughtfully. "At least it seemed to be fifty years ago." He grinned a hateful grin then jerked his chin toward the nearest shifter, the hairy bloke.

  "Take Saint to the Kennel. Introduce him to Vivianne." He eyed me with a laugh in his eyes. "If you can get our sweet fae-born witch to talk to you, let alone help you, be my guest. Just leave a thousand in her tip jar. She shares with the house and I am in the market for another silky blouse."

  "Shirt," I said with a snort. "You fucking idiot. Human men do not call their shirts blouses."

  He took that bit of information in with a blink and a shrug then waved his brawn toward a door at the end of the alley. He disappeared into the shadows before I'd gone three steps.

  When we stood in front of a leathery looking door, I realized why the place was called The Kennel. The door wore a snarling wolf face and was covered from top to bottom in hide. The stink of blood was stronger here and I realized why. There was gobs of flesh and blood all over the cobblestones.

  "Monsters," I said.

  The guy's grin did nothing to convince me otherwise. "You're the monster here, Saint," he said and gave a series of sharp raps and taps.

  Immediately, the door shriveled and contracted and then roared out at us with a mouth that spread across the width of the door and flashed a row of nasty teeth with razor sharp points. Flesh flew out in every direction and landed with gut-rolling splats against walls and pavement.

  I leapt back and raised my fists on instinct but even as I braced for attack, the door swung wide and I glimpsed the throbbing lights and pulsing music of a nightclub beyond the frame.

  "Welcome to The Kennel," Errol said from inside the door. He struck a pose that might have looked charming to an innocent mortal. Even so, he had that greasy porn star vibe and I couldn't imagine anyone finding him the least bit alluring.

  "I see you have enough power to teleport," I said as impassively as I could manage. I shouldered my way past him, trying not to brush against any part of him.

  "Teleportation is a human term," the i
ncubus said. "We prefer shade walking."

  He nodded at his bouncers who moved aside, leaving a path through the crowds that lead my eye to a broad bar surrounded by several naked humans. All of them had been stuccoed with magic paint from hair to heel.

  "So where is she?" I said, pretending I didn't see the way a beautiful mulatto woman's paint transformed to a nun's habit.

  "You're welcome," Errol said as he jerked his chin at the bar.

  I shot a look his way. There was something off in his voice.

  "This isn't a trap, is it?"

  He laid his fingers against his chest so innocently, I knew whatever came out of his mouth next would be a lie.

  He clamped down on whatever he was going to say and pointed toward the bar again. I followed the line to a smooth-faced brunette behind the counter with eyes so ice blue I could see them from where I stood. At last. The fae-born witch.

  I abandoned the incubus and his dogs and headed to the bar.

  She was busy slinging what had to be blood drinks based on the red stains that webbed through the alcohol like ink in water. Behind her, a bank of bottles that sparkled from within with bubbles of white light, phased in and out as though they couldn't quite hold onto reality. I imagined they were specialty liqueurs from one of the other nine worlds.

  I slid onto one of the stools and tried to decide whether I should wait till I caught her attention or just demand it. The mulatto woman approached the bar. Her painted on glamor shifted to a sexy nun outfit but I blinked hard, and saw beneath the haggard, ill-fed, mortal woman she was.

  Indentured. I hadn't seen one this close before. I swallowed down the sudden water that flooded my mouth as she came too close to the demon's sphere of energy.

  "Back off," I growled and she sent me a vacant, glassy-eyed stare. When she didn't move, I made to shove her away but felt a wave of dizziness swim behind my eyes. Everything tunneled down for a moment. I laid my palm on the bar top to steady myself. This wasn't going to be easy.

  I blinked at it as my fingers curled under. The skin looked so paper-thin I didn't think it was my own hand until I tapped my nails on the counter. The contact that rattled up into my hand told me I wasn't seeing things. There were even liver spots on my skin for Pete's sake.

  "Get you something?" A woman said from the other side of the bar.

  I looked up at her, this Vivianne who was supposed to be fae-born, who the ancient vampire Fayed assured me was as good as Rosario. Her gaze lingered on my face for a moment, patient and expectant before her brow furrowed.

  "You alright, old man?" she said.

  I swiveled on the stool, expecting to see someone behind me. The room revealed dozens of mortal magic-painted Indentured served drinks to vampires and shifters alike. One of them was bent over a vampire's lap, her neck arched as he bit down into her nape. I shuddered while the demon salivated.

  A soft rap on my hand. "I asked you if you were alright?"

  "Vivianne?" I said, turning back to that piercing blue. It was unnerving, no matter how beautiful she was.

  "That's right." Her eyes narrowed. "You know me?"

  I shook my head. "Fayed sent me. He said you could help me."

  She rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms over an ample bosom barely contained by a lace corset ribboned in red and black. I tried to stifle the wriggling of the demon within as it responded to the way her movement seemed to offer the creaminess of her skin. And yet, I didn't get the sense she was doing it on purpose.

  "I don't do age spells," she said with a furtive look toward one of the corners where a shadowy figure watched us. "You want a drink, I can do that for you. Spell a bit of memory magic into it so you can recall your good old days of unabashed randiness, but I can't restore your youth, old man."

  Old man. She was right about that. She had to be what? Twenty six to my one hundred thirty two? Usually, women found me attractive. It wasn't a fact I exploited or cared about but it still stung.

  I fumbled for my pocket as I thought about the women I'd turned down in the last decade and compared them to her, all in the time it took to realize that no matter how much I dug, I couldn't quite get a grip on the chain. It seemed to flee for every effort to lasso it. Strange. I could barely feel anything.

  She was waiting with a look of barely suppressed impatience.

  I struggled to feel for the cross inside the burrow I'd shoved it into. I might have chalked it up to good old fashioned lust over the filly behind the counter except I was pretty sure the only thing that should go numb was my brain in that case. Besides. I hadn't lusted after a woman in decades.

  I started to curse when my hand curled around the crucifix, but I managed to bite down the obscenity before it made me look any more like a sour old codger than I already seemed to.

  The sharp cold metal led my fingers to Jesus's outstretched arms where the curve of the stone marked the intersection of stiles and crossbar. My nail fetched up on a now obvious crack. My heart sank as I pulled it out and inspected it before laying it on the bar in front of her.

  "It's broken," I said and shoved my hands back in my pockets to keep them from traveling over the bar. I was terrified to see if they shook.

  Her hiss of air as she inhaled so sharply, so quickly, was enough to pull my eyes to her face.

  "You know the work?" I said, assuming her reaction was indication that she did.

  She shook her head as she stared at me, then she blinked, not once but twice. She sighed heavily, frustrated, almost, at something I didn't understand.

  "I'm sorry," she said as she reached beneath the bar. "Sometimes my sight plays tricks on me."

  She pulled out a tall glass. It clinked against the surface as she plopped it in front of me. A wave of her hand and one of those sparkling bottles floated off the shelf into her hand.

  "Ambrosia?" she said. "You look like you could use it." She gave a light laugh.

  "Sure," I said distracted as I nodded but held her gaze. "You didn't say if you knew the work." I sent a meaningful glance toward the crucifix.

  She shrugged as she poured. "Is there something special about that Christian abomination that I should recognize?" she said. "I mean aside from the blade sheathed inside?"

  I lifted the glass and held it up so I could swirl the liquid in the pulsing light of the club.

  "You looked like you recognized it." I hedged. I didn't want all my cards out there all at once. If she knew Rosario, maybe she knew where she was.

  She snorted. "I told you. My sight. It plays tricks on me. For a second you looked...well, you looked like you were a hundred years old."

  "If it's any comfort to your powers, I am," I said. "But that's not why I'm here. I need something from you. Fayed thinks you can spell that stone for me. The original spell restrained a demon. Pretty effectively," I added, ignoring the times I'd lost myself to the damn thing.

  She inclined her chin toward the drink. "You gonna drink that or is it going to come out of my hide?"

  Strange comment to make, I thought, but the drink didn't look any more spelled than anything else she'd poured for other patrons and they all looked alright. I upended it and swallowed a rush of pear tasting sparkling liqueur. Sweet, but not cloying. It warmed my chest and hicupped in there. I grinned at her, trying to show an affable side to her that might predispose her to aiding a man in need.

  I must have grimaced instead, because she leaned across the counter and hissed a few conspiratorial words at me.

  "Don't blame me," she said. "I had no choice."

  That was when I noticed a shadowy figure peel himself from the dark corner near the bar and approached us.

  I slid my gaze to her then to the glass.

  "You set me up," I said.

  7

  Two vampires nearby moved aside as the creature, a dark fae by the tar-like color of his hair, approached the bar. I recognized the underboss of the fae-kin cabal immediately and cursed my momentary lapse of judgement. I glared sideways at the young fae-
born witch and she edged away with both hands clasped against that creamy bosom. I hoped none of them would catch my subtle sleight of hand as I closed my fist around the crucifix and dropped it into my pocket.

  She mouthed an apology then clamped her mouth closed.

  "Hale Saint," the underboss said in a drawl that was an obvious affectation he'd acquired since I'd seen him last. "I'm amazed any of the portals let you through the bazaar. Maddox keeps them locked pretty tight to humans."

  "Part demon," I said with a shrug. I caught sight of Errol from the side of my eye and realized by his sliding glance over the fae that it wasn't an accident at all that I was there. Not by a long shot.

  "I'm not here on business," I said with the vague thought I'd been saying it a lot lately and it had gotten me nowhere useful. But I did manage to find the the wisdom to lift my hands in surrender. I was outnumbered here and I knew it. Even the demon within had gone silent. That couldn't be a good thing.

  He motioned to the pretty fae bartender to fetch him a drink and she did so fast enough that I didn't see the glass until it was in his hand, frothy and electric blue. He titled it toward me.

  "What sort of dark accident could bring you into the Kennel if not business?" he said over the rim before swallowing the entire wash of liquid with one gulp. He belched politely into his fist as he regarded me. "Well?"

  I squared my shoulders. I knew the writhing of shadows behind him meant several of his made-fae waited for a call to arms. The door behind me had long gone back to its wolfish skin and I had no idea if it would open for me again. Several doors led to different colored chambers where sounds from within quarreled with each other before mixing into the temple-pounding tempo of music here in the main bar.

  I hadn't sighted any other escape but the door I'd come in and he knew it.

  "I came looking for a witch who can spell an object for me," I said.