by Gaja J. Kos
Her laughter lingered long after she disappeared down the stairwell.
With a smile still resting on my lips, I padded back inside to gear up. Daggers fitted my prevalent mood, so I concealed a couple and strapped three in plain sight. Last of all, I stalked over to the chest of drawers tucked beneath the living room window and pulled a coin from the bottom.
The magic emanating from the metal was Kolduny in feel, but after spending six decades out in the world, absorbing the various energies, it was also unique. Should be just about enough to cover my father’s bail.
If they wanted more, they could keep him.
My love had its limits, too.
Depending on an individual’s rank, there were several or just one entry point into a demonic territory. One thing, however, remained the same. The few material places that existed within our predominantly insubstantial realm were strictly off-limits unless they were our respective lairs.
So when I reached for my alternate shape and dispersed into nothing but particles, the location I held in my mind wasn’t the jail itself, but the shadowed path leading up to it.
The scents were first to go. The soft perfume of coffee. The faint trace of vanilla from the candle in the living room. Even the godsdamned approaching storm.
I was cocooned in a disturbingly empty bubble, hating this split second I always had to go through before the visual winked away, and my surroundings weren’t the walls of my apartment any longer, but shadows.
Just wispy shades ranging from dark gray to pitch black, with no discernible shape to an untrained eye.
Being born in the Shadow World, my eye was luckily far from untrained, and it didn’t take me long to float over to the prison. Unlike the more private, residential buildings, the door lurking behind the veil of shadows wasn’t sealed tight. My particles seeped through the cracks with ease. Nobody really cared who entered the reception area since it would take someone with a death wish to cause any sort of real trouble in here. Besides, the actual cells were out back, protected by sturdy, layered walls not even the stealthiest of particles could get through.
Save for mine.
Of course, if I tried busting Vuyasin out that way, Yelena would come after me in a flash.
The old fart wasn’t worth painting a target on my back.
Magic washed over me again as I reclaimed my human shape. I landed elegantly on the gleaming floor more suited for a high-end lobby than a jail, but the thud of my boots hitting the polished stone was lost in the chatter.
Oh, for fuck’s sake…
There was an entire line of demons waiting to bail people out.
The mere thought of spending more time than I felt comfortable within the Shadow World grated the edges of my mind, but I joined the end of the queue nonetheless. Good thing, too, since five more demons piled behind me not a moment later.
What the fuck?
The jail had always been busy thanks to our not-exactly-rule-loving nature, but this seemed way over the top. Kind of reminded me of summer sales back in the mortal realm, though the payout here wasn’t nearly as rewarding as a shitload of discounted shoes and clothes.
I glanced over my shoulder when the demon behind me encroached on my personal space—casually elbowing me in the ribs. Ugh. I really hated crowds. The demon answered my glower with a sneer, but added a touch more space between us.
The presence of more new arrivals buzzed at the back of my mind. Now this was just weird.
Either Yelena was locking people up for smaller offenses than usual, or the denizens had upped the severity of their crimes.
Either way, this wasn’t a promising sight.
Seeking comfort in the daggers strapped to my body, the familiar weight of them against my limbs, I scanned the people around me. While some continued to hover in particle form, it was as easy to read their energies as it was to see the faces of those who stood on their corporeal feet. A few gazes met mine, but quickly turned away.
Bitter amusement slithered through me.
The lethal lap dog who fled from her master.
Should have known it would be impossible to bail my father out without being noticed. Still, as long as I crossed back into the mortal realm before word reached—
Awareness prickled the nape of my neck like a thousand tiny hot pokers, every possible alarm ringing in my head.
Ah, shit.
So much for my godsdamned plan.
Chapter 2
Atoms screamed as I forced them apart at a far greater speed than they were accustomed to.
The pain blinded me for a disorienting instant, but was quickly replaced by relief as I wholly shed the binding chains of my body.
Still, even in my alternate form, my breaths felt labored, imaginary muscles tense as Yelena made her way from the door towards the long onyx counter separating the reception area from the actual prison. Her chestnut curls swayed elegantly with each click of her heels, wisps of black fog unspooling around her feet like an ethereal extension of her glittering gold-and-black gown.
For all her faults, no one could argue Yelena’s very being did anything less than command every damn space she walked into.
I pressed myself closer to the stone wall as several of the other demons chose to change shape, as if that would hide them from their queen. Only I was so lucky.
Which was also why I was valuable to her.
Something about my unknown heritage affected my atoms, granting them chameleon properties that enabled me to blend with whatever surroundings I was in—and made me next to impossible to pick up on. While certain alarm systems, namely ones including infrared, could detect my presence if not my identity, demons, on the other hand, weren’t privy to even that much of an insight. Including those with ridiculously potent levels like Yelena.
I was air.
And I was fucking grateful for it.
The words she exchanged with the warden were too low for me to hear, but her stance alone spoke volumes. Whatever the subject was, it wasn’t something that pleased our darling queen’s ear. Her slender fingers dug into the onyx counter, then loosened once she straightened her back. Power rippled around her, translucent to the eye, yet the vibrations coursing through the room were unmistakable.
As was the tightness on the warden’s broad face.
Seemed to me that a lashing was on the menu.
My fellow observers became tightly wound coils of anticipation, though here and there, I caught a hint of excitement, too. Sick fucks, getting off on torture as long as they weren’t on the receiving end.
Sometimes even then.
But Yelena…
She turned on her heels. No display to please her audience.
When several steps separated her from the counter, the warden let out a shuddering breath. I couldn’t help but wince at the rookie mistake.
Survival rule number one. Yelena was always dangerous.
A vine of demon fire shot from Yelena’s palm. The rope of flames snaked around the man’s wrist and tightened its noose until the distinct stench of burnt flesh disturbed my atoms. He let out a strangled groan—which only made Yelena amp up the pressure.
Despite the increasingly ashen shade of his skin, the warden didn’t drop his display of bravado.
Yet another mistake.
Yelena despised cowards. But she also wanted people to submit. It was a fine line between the two, though if you wanted to survive a face-to-face with the dame herself, you had no choice but to master the fuck out of it.
Numerous jiggling atoms of my kinsmen rattled the air as Yelena continued with the torture, while those who had opted to remain in the flesh wisely averted their gazes—and their gazes only. Anything more and she would probably snatch them, too, given the obvious snit she was in.
Even the previous spurts of amusement faded.
Only once the warden’s anguish found voice in the form of a shriek did Yelena let go.
Her heels rapped against the marble in a cruel, hard rhythm as the man c
radled his nearly severed hand, silent once more. Just as our queen preferred.
The corporeal demons did their best to mask the fact that they were recoiling by making it seem they were respectfully giving her more room to pass. Yelena wasn’t fooled. But, much to my surprise, she didn’t lash out either.
Her eyes skimmed the portion of the wall where I lurked. I sucked in a nonexistent breath.
She couldn’t see me.
She never had.
But what if spending all that time in the material realm had changed something? Made me…rusty?
Those cunning eyes narrowed, then looked away.
If I had knees, I was pretty certain they would have balked under my weight right about now.
Fucking Shadow World.
Finding light in darkness wasn’t part of my usual array of expertise, but I had to admit Yelena’s unexpected arrival had dealt with the queue with remarkable efficiency.
Only one of the demons recovered faster than I did and managed to occupy the slowly healing warden before I manifested by the counter.
Luckily, their exchange was fast, a check-in rather than bail, and not two minutes later, the uniformed demon snatched the coin from my fingers with his good hand. His inspection of the artifact ended in an affirmative grunt. I skirted around the counter after he jerked his head to the side, then followed him through the outer wards.
Magic skimmed my skin, but its touch wasn’t probing. More like a curtain that hadn’t been drawn wide enough.
Mostly, it just tickled.
I tugged down my zipper as the stuffy air hit me full force. Had it been this bad the last time I was here? I mulled over the question as I walked to the shabby steel-and-plastic chair the warden had pointed to before he disappeared through the inner perimeter wards, but reached no conclusions. Maybe it was just my nerves, making everything worse.
Though given that the shittiest scenario had already happened with Yelena’s guest appearance, the leftover jitteriness struck me as unnecessary.
Seconds dragged by, enough of them to actually make me consider sitting on the dingy chair.
The prison was large and extended several levels below ground, but distance meant little while traveling in particle form. Somehow, I had a suspicion the warden had deliberately chosen to walk like a regular joe, using the winding stairwell that snaked along the floors and turned the descent—or ascent—into an impossibly long one. It was standard procedure to bind the inmates so they couldn’t use their alternate states. Thanks to the stairs, even if one of them managed to escape their respective cell, they were certain to be caught before they made it up here.
Unfortunately, stalling the prisoners wasn’t the only merit the damn design granted.
I crossed my arms, gave the inner barrier the stink-eye, and leaned against the unpleasantly warm wall.
The warden hadn’t been able to lash out at my master for what she did to him, but he obviously had no qualms pissing off her prized assassin.
I couldn’t help but wonder whether he thought that particular course of action through.
Yelena might be the power here. But I was the blade.
Unsanctioned marks did happen.
Just as my annoyance cranked up another notch, two figures passed through the nearly opaque wards. I rolled my eyes. My father was actually fighting the man who was dragging him towards his freedom.
A deep scowl grooved Vuyasin’s hardened face, and sweaty strands of light brown hair were plastered to his forehead, testifying that his foolish resistance had probably gone on for a while. Made me reconsider my initial assessment of the warden.
“Thank you,” I said as I curled my fingers around my father’s muscular arm, formally taking charge of him. At least until we were out the prison doors.
The warden gave me a gruff nod, then glared in Vuyasin’s direction. Yeah, dear old dad had that effect on people.
True to what I’d seen earlier, my father remained restless, his body jerking in consecutive attempts to twist away and walk on his own, regardless of what the official rules said. Well, if he didn’t want to be treated like a prisoner, then he shouldn’t have brokered shady deals with those demons from Raya’s court.
“What did you do, anyway?” I asked him when the warden led us back through the wards and into the airy reception area.
The line once again snaked all the way to the exit, a touch longer now, thanks to the delay Vuyasin caused. Was still causing, actually.
The warden kept an eye on us, ready to drag my father back into his cell on the off chance the asshole overpowered me.
My fingernails sank into Vuyasin’s flesh. “I asked you a question.”
“I don’t answer to you, Crina.”
My stomach churned at the alcohol lacing his breath. Great, not only was he difficult, he was drunk, too.
“You might be Yelena’s favorite pet,” he spat, “but I’m your father.”
Refusing to waste a comeback, I simply pushed open the door and hauled him out onto the shadowed path. But didn’t let go—despite Vuyasin’s continued protests.
He was strong. Just not quite strong enough.
“Look”—I leveled my gaze on his bloodshot eyes—“I dragged my ass out of bed and lost a fucking valuable to get you out of here.”
“And you expect me to thank you?” Spittle flew. I dodged it with a quick crane of my neck. “You always liked being superior, didn’t you? Better than anyone else because—”
“I don’t get caught like you?” I snapped. “Fuck…”
His arm lashed out in a blur. I leaned back—too slow by a fragment of a second.
A stinging sensation burst to life in the shape of four gashes just beneath my collarbone where the neckline of my tee left my skin exposed, followed by the all-too-familiar warm trickle.
The bastard had bled me with his fucking fingernails.
Lips twisting into a snarl, I looked up, more than eager to return the favor. But where Vuyasin had been, only shadows remained to greet my anger.
I stared at the man’s crisp gray suit, darkened on the shoulders where the rain had managed to circumvent his umbrella, and wondered why the fuck would he choose a day like this to test my nerves. I flattened my palms against the reinforced glass counter, then I lifted my gaze to his.
“No.” My voice came out low and steady, filled with conviction I hoped he was going to acknowledge but knew he most likely would just ignore. I’d had enough run-ins with his kind to smell them from a mile away. “If you don’t have a permit, I can’t sell you a gun.”
The human’s fingers twitched. Obviously, few people denied him anything. The downpour outside grew worse as silence filled my shop, droplets hitting the windows overlooking the main street. A mother with her kid sought refuge beneath the narrow strip of roof jutting out.
I really didn’t want this to get ugly with bystanders so close.
“We can do this without a receipt.” The man dropped his voice. “The entire sum in cash. No taxes. No fees.”
I peered up at his freshly shaven face. Handsome in that classical way that always had my demonic sex drive firing up. Unfortunately, the effect was irrevocably ruined by his arrogance.
Delusional entitlement was a bitch. Especially when you fed it on a daily basis.
Leaning away from the counter, I straightened to my full height. Not much at five feet six, but the effect was there nonetheless.
“No permit, no gun. I run a legitimate business, and if you don’t want me to report you to the authorities, I suggest you leave. This is a one-time only offer.”
His dark green eyes took in my faded jeans and loose white tee, the black leather jacket that shielded me from the humid chill not even the closed door could keep out. Whatever he was searching for, he must have thought he’d found it since he suddenly grew taller, that arrogance on full display. A waste. He really would have been handsome if he hadn’t chosen a career as a jerk.
“You’ll accept my offer, or I’ll have
my people comb through your business until they find something to shut you down. And I can assure you they will.”
“Same people who wouldn’t blink twice at you trying to purchase a gun illegally?” I snorted. “Buddy, my accounts are clean, I pay my taxes, and everything about my business follows the law to the letter.”
This business, at least. Running a weapons shop in Ljubljana, straight under the noses of the supernatural government, was an excellent cover. The best lies always need a grain of truth to them. Dealing with weapons out in the open deterred suspicion, and with the concealed carry permit, as well as the occasional security job I took on, it was next to impossible to sniff out my true profession.
I leaned forward and flashed him an unpleasant smile. “If any irregularities were to suddenly pop up, I’d know it was you who planted them there thanks to your not-so-subtle threat. And my IT guy would track them straight to the source. Sounds like a mighty big risk just to purchase a gun.”
The guy opened his mouth, then closed it. Thunder rolled in the background.
“Then again,” I drawled, tapping my fingernails against the counter, “if you’re a risk-taker, I’m sure it would be no trouble at all to head down to Fužine. I heard that someone called Stane might be in possession of what you seek. His price is double mine, but as I said, until I see a permit, there’s nothing I can do for you here.”
The man’s eyes darkened with calculation, the shade reminiscent of aventurine. Pretty.
Even more so when a flash of lightning highlighted the concealed uncertainty lining his otherwise hard expression.
Was I telling the truth? Or was I setting him up?
The answer to the first was yes. The second… Well, that was up to Stane and the suit’s behavior.
In all honesty, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he ended up somewhere in a ditch, but who knew. Maybe he only had the asshole attitude while trying to pressure a seemingly non-threatening woman.
A snort fluttered through my mind, but I kept my face expectant—expectant for him to turn around and leave me the fuck alone. When he remained glued to the spot, still studying me, I glanced rather pointedly towards the windows to give him a hint.
