by Gaja J. Kos
My kind of slab of meat to stab.
No one noticed my hovering form as I slowly circled around the table and scanned the agendas printed on thick pearl-white paper. Budget. Sponsors. Catering.
Of course I wasn’t expecting a bullet point to spell out ARCANEWINGS SABOTAGE MANEUVERS, but given that two out of three topics they were to discuss involved innocent third parties—parties, I suspected, were right here in the room with me—it was safe to bet I wouldn’t miss out on anything important if I snooped around elsewhere while they chatted.
Recalling the layout of the building from my memory, I breezed down the hallways until I reached the unimpressive office hiding something that definitely had the potential to be anything but.
At first glance, the room resembled one of those spaces they shoved temps into, with too-narrow walls, a single window that didn’t even open, and a desk that looked more like an ironing board than anything designed to actually support a person’s workload.
It was clever, I had to give the architect that. But not clever enough to fool someone who’s been in the business for as long as I have.
Filing cabinets dominated the western wall, slightly dented on one end. I examined at the grooves, then scanned the table. A perfect match.
Someone hadn’t taken care while swinging the entire damn line of cabinets open, consequently ramming them into the desk. I let out a soundless chuckle, then squeezed myself through the slits cut into the top part of the false doors.
A dark, tight space greeted me on the other side. It matched the dimensions of the filing cabinets to a T, only when one would expect to find the back wall, there was nothing but a smooth, steel plate spanning the entire height and width. I hovered closer. A lightly illuminated panel rested on my left, granting entry to the safe once the cabinets were out of the way.
Nifty.
And warded.
The magical barrier overlaying the steel prickled my atoms when I neared it. Just a muffled, muted presence instead of the usual potent display. Which could only mean one thing.
The safe was airtight.
Well, fuck. It had been a while since I stumbled onto someone who went all the way.
I inched back a little, particles shifting restlessly as I tried to make sense of it all.
In truth, layered wards kept most baddies out, even demons. If someone was extra paranoid about the safety of their goods—or hadn’t been able to afford a blood contract with the witch responsible for the wards—they opted for infrared. Something I suspected lurked beyond the reinforced wall, too. Because the airlock…
Triple security seemed a bit overboard, especially when I took into consideration the measures I’d already waltzed through—and hadn’t come even close to what I was facing now.
Misdirection? Or lack of funds?
Either way, it confirmed that what I was after was sequestered in the safe.
Sacred Skies must have known they were antagonizing a demon lord. Paranoia kind of went with the territory. As did shelling out a shit-ton of cash to keep their little secrets theirs.
I wasn’t about to achieve anything on this front today, so I retraced my path to the conference room. The meeting was still dragging on with two more topics to cross off. With my choice either to wait here and bore myself out of my mind, or take another detour and phone Simon, see if maybe he could take care of my little air-tight problem, the decision really wasn’t a hard one to make.
Scouting more of the building along the way, I eventually emerged in the not-so-fresh air and hid behind one of the larger parked vehicles where security cams couldn’t spot someone materializing out of thin air.
“Well, don’t you love me lately?” Simon drawled.
“And you’re gonna love me. You up for a challenge?”
A low chuckle. “What do you have in mind?”
“Air-tight safe.” I turned my gaze to the building and zoomed in on the decoy room with its sealed window—the only one out of the lot. “I can handle the wards, but I need to get past the fucking door first.”
Simon whistled, then clicked away on his keyboard. “All right, what’s the location?”
I gave it to him, and threw in the precise spot within the building the safe was located. Simon let out an amused laugh that made me believe he stumbled onto something that only he’d find funny.
“They have infrared.” He laughed.
“Figured as much,” I commented dryly.
“You think there was some massive sale on sensors or something?” When I didn’t answer, Simon went on, “Maybe they had a buy-one-for-yourself-and-your-friend-gets-it-for-free event, and all the members of the Let’s Piss Crina Off Club banded together, stocked up for the coming assassin party times…”
“Can you get me in or not?” I asked through gritted teeth, though a kernel of humor edged into my voice.
“Hold on to your knickers, princess.”
More clicks. Then another laugh, only this one was not amused. Wonder Boy and his magic fingers hit a—though probably minor—wall.
“I can get you through the airlock, but I can’t switch off the infrared without tripping an alarm. They probably have an auxiliary power unit somewhere, too, if they went to such lengths, so I can’t just cut off the power.” He sighed, although it sounded determined, not defeated. “I’ll let you know what I can do.”
“Thanks, Simon.”
His response was a mumbled string of words that could have been anything, but did let me know that he was already on the job.
Stashing my phone in my pocket, I returned inside. The safe had to wait, but I still had the CEO to shadow. Even cautious men tended to let something slip when they thought they were alone.
Info, if I were lucky. A fart, if I were not.
I breezed past the workers filling the parking lot as they left the office for the day, then retraced my route to the conference room. Three men were locked in deep conversation inside.
David Lebar was not among them. Crap.
I hadn’t spent all that much time exploring or on the phone with Simon, but even as I took to the corridors, the damn slimeball was nowhere in sight.
If this streak of unwelcome developments didn’t end soon…
Halting in a fairly desolated area, I focused on Lebar’s essence. I’d picked it up earlier, a sharp, prickling sensation that spoke of a man who liked his power untested and in massive quantities. The fact that he was human did nothing to dissuade him from that path.
The trail guided me back towards the public section of Sacred Skies’s HQ, then veered sharply right just before the security checks. I pushed myself faster down the bleak corridor, past the storage units and a questionable coffee machine I wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot pole.
A door appeared just around the corner. Lebar’s essence grew stronger as I neared it. Like a true crook, I squeezed myself through the keyhole. Its rusty presence grazed the edges of my atoms, and relief washed over me once I reached the other side.
Relief. And voices.
I couldn’t make out the words, but they were coming from a level or two below. The poorly lit stairwell leading there was covered in a thin film of dust with a single pair of footprints indicating recent activity. I suspected there was a second entrance somewhere, offering a chance to meet up and chat without tipping off anyone else at Sacred Skies.
The situation had fishy written all over it. My heartbeat sped up.
It was on the second landing that I found them. David Lebar, holding court in the dusk with his arms crossed, and another man in a spiffy suit, his hands jammed inside his pockets hovering near a rust-stained door. It reminded me of a minor garage entrance, though I hadn’t seen any signs of one existing below the building. Maybe a leftover from whatever the War had torn down.
The unknown man nodded in reply to something I’d missed, then said, “Albert will check in tomorrow with more intel.”
“Excellent.” Lebar uncrossed his arms and straightened his jacket, st
irring the floating dust. “If there aren’t any setbacks, we can proceed with our plan next month.”
Another nod. “I’ll make sure Albert keeps an eye out on things on his end, though I doubt we’ll run into any trouble.”
I snickered silently.
I wouldn’t bet on that if I were him.
Still grinning, I left the building and flew over Ljubljana, the sky streaked pink, orange, and red, with only a dash of clouds breaking up the horizon. Beneath me, the Old Town was alive with voices that mixed in with tunes coming from the various street musicians scattered throughout the crowd.
Everybody seemed eager to bask in the gorgeous weather spring so rarely gifted us.
I pushed past packed cafes, headed northwest in a straight line until I reached ArcaneWings’s offices. If my intel were correct, Breccan’s rested on the topmost floor of the elegant white building—the one with the best view, of course.
Luckily, that also meant his office was the one with the easiest access.
The slightly opened window further aided my entrance, though once I swept inside and saw the demon lord casually leaning against his desk, I got the distinct impression he was waiting for me. Some offshoot sixth sense he must have developed over the ages.
Because while he might have anticipated my arrival, Breccan hadn’t picked up on my presence. I indulged in a little shameless swooning.
While Breccan was wet dream material on his own, in a suit, he was positively dashing. The cut showed off his muscular frame without being too tight, and drew attention to those powerful, yet unnervingly elegant legs. His long hair, pulled back in an intricate braid that trailed down his neck, infused me with a nearly overpowering urge to play with it.
I put some distance between us as a few seriously distracting scenarios popped up in my head, and turned my attention to Breccan’s face instead.
Concentration sharpened his chiseled features, yet there was something soft, gentle, in the way he gazed at the evening sky. The moment seemed almost intimate—and made me feel like the crappiest intruder.
That, more than anything, convinced me my voyeurism had to come to an end.
Breccan’s only reaction when I regained corporeal form was a slight raise of his eyebrows. He took in the broad, smug smile on my face and pushed away from the desk.
I backpedaled towards the wall out of sheer instinct. Only that made the situation worse, as Breccan didn’t appear to give a fuck about maintaining at least a modest amount of distance between us.
“Do you have an employee named Albert?” I blurted.
Way to keep your cool, Crin.
My question, while poorly executed, did catch Breccan by surprise and temporarily aborted whatever the fuck had pulsed between us. He strode over to his computer, clicked away with those slender fingers of his, then sent whatever file he pulled up to the printer. I couldn’t help admiring his back and firm ass when he turned around to gather the papers before bringing them over to me.
“I do.” He placed the printouts in my hands. “Albert Krosni. Employed just under a year and a half ago. You suspect him?”
Quickly, I gave Breccan the rundown of what I learned from eavesdropping on the CEO and his yet unidentified shady friend. Breccan’s mismatched eyes darkened the longer I spoke, power accumulating around him as if he were a magnet.
“Whatever it is, he cannot deliver that information to Lebar.”
I touched his elbow. “He won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You…” His expression softened. “You decided to see this through?”
I shrugged and dropped my arm, though my fingers continued to tingle. “I guess I understand a little something about wanting to make a life for yourself. And I guess I like the idea behind ArcaneWings. I’m not some pure-hearted Goody Two-Shoes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for the witches in your employment.”
After all, Lena was half Koldunya, and it was her kin who got a chance at actually making a career based on their unique magic. One that went beyond any and all witch stereotypes. What Breccan strove to build was nothing but a good life.
“Thank you.”
Those two words were spoken with such tenderness I would have staggered back if I weren’t already pressed flush against the wall. Breccan took another step closer, our bodies almost aligned.
“You have my protection.” He lowered his head, the evening light falling upon the scarred side of his face and illuminating its rough beauty. “As well as my deepest gratitude.”
My breath hitched in my throat, and my treacherous body angled itself by its own accord. My chin lifted as Breccan’s mouth lowered to mine.
By the gods, I wanted him. Right here in the office would do perfectly fine. He could even keep that nice suit of his on, lean me over the desk—
His breath caressed my skin, and my lips parted as Breccan braced himself against the wall with one hand while curving the other around my neck. A smile that was pure sin and temptation flirted with his features.
“Tell me”—he ground his body against mine as his energy teased my electrified skin—“just what thought sent your desire running so intoxicatingly wild?”
Chapter 12
Desire? The volatile blend inside me struck me as more of a fucking lust bomb just waiting to go off.
Breccan’s mismatched eyes blazed with the promise of fulfilling what I craved, the curve of his lips too fucking sensual for words.
My own mouth curling up, I shifted my stance so I could better feel the hard length of him press against me. Breccan obliged.
Gods, why had I ever even worried about this?
My back arched of its own accord as the sex incarnate demon lord ran his teasing fingers up my side, then lazily brushed his thumb under my breast.
“Say it, Crina,” he purred. “What could possibly”—he trapped my nipple between his thumb and index finger—“fulfill your delicious need?”
His gaze dropped to my lips as I opened them—to tell him of the fantasy I had in mind or to let out a groan, I wasn’t sure.
The tangible hunger in his energy swiped away every thought until all that remained was his heightened awareness of not just his body, but him. His breath played upon my skin as his tongue traced the side of my neck.
“Do you want it sweet?”
A sensual kiss behind my ear.
“Or harder?”
Pleasure ripped through me as his teeth sank into my earlobe and his fingers pinched my nipple just as roughly as I liked it.
His chuckle swept through the room, and when he straightened to meet my gaze again, his eyes shone. “The latter, I see.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Before I could as much as swear, a petite woman in a pastel ensemble barged inside the office as if she had the right.
Breccan flashed me a smile and whispered, “We’ll finish this another time, Crina.”
Grateful to have the wall behind me, I supported myself against it lest my pathetic, weak knees gave way. The witch’s gaze shifted from Breccan to me and back again, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she handed him a folder bearing the ArcaneWings logo, then flipped it open on a proper page.
I felt more than saw Breccan’s attention drift back to my mildly writhing self. A relief to know he hadn’t just dismissed me, yet at the same time, I had no real wish to drag out this situation any longer. As soon as his eyes met mine, I merely gave him a nod before I deconstructed myself and hightailed it out the window.
Getting busted twice by employees while in compromising positions with their bosses filled my quota of awkwardness for the next decade to come.
A low buzz of excitement continued to stir my insides once I arrived at my apartment, although now it had more to do with the prospect of hunting down Albert than Breccan’s sexual allure.
After I made myself some coffee, I spread the printouts the demon lord had given me across the table and started reading. As always, the process grounded me,
transformed my mind into that instrument of precision that pushed away all bullshit until nothing but utter devotion to the task remained. Aside from my chameleon nature and fighting skills, this was what kept me alive even in the most lethal of situations.
While a detailed and thorough account, the file consisted of bare, everyday facts that gave me a rough approximation of what to expect from Albert Krosni, but not a true insight into him.
I rang Simon.
“I haven’t cracked your safe yet.”
He sounded as if he needed a cup of coffee. Or ten.
“Not calling about that.” I let my smile permeate my words, then drew one of the papers closer. “If I gave you an email address, could you see on which sites it’s used? Or if there’s a username tied to it?”
Simon bristled. “Honey, I could do that while taking a crap.”
I held back a laugh. At times, it really was too easy to bait him into the proper mood. I relayed Albert’s address, and just a short streak of clicks later, Simon provided me with a username.
“Need the websites, too?”
Normally, the answer to that would be yes, but I didn’t want to add a menial task I could do just fine on my own to his workflow.
“Nah, I got this. Thanks, love.”
“Send over the cash, and I’ll believe you.”
I snorted, but Simon had already hung up.
After I made a mental note to wire him the payment, I pulled my laptop closer and typed in the name. Redhaze103.
What the search spat out was interesting reading, I had to admit. And it more than filled in the blanks.
Albert was a member of a shitload of forums and subscription websites, all of them catering to a very specific taste. I even found a few photos of him circling around. Although the face was obscured, I could tell it was my guy from the honey blond locks of hair and a heart-shaped birthmark on his jawline. There was also a blog devoted to his activities—updated sporadically, but not abandoned. The last entry bore the date just shy of two weeks ago.
For someone who played the role of a mole, he certainly didn’t mind sharing a shitload of his preferences and snippets of personal life to strangers on the web. He probably thought that even if someone found his online identity, there was little harm to come from it, except maybe a disinclined employer or two.
