by Gaja J. Kos
With my sleep-deprived face, I was willing to bet I not only mirrored the effect, but surpassed it.
“Crina,” the one I figured was the head of their little coven and went by the name of Silva said.
With a bland smile, she took the wicker seat opposite mine. Her two companions filled the empty ones on either side, completing our ensemble. I gave a curt nod to them all, then focused on Silva.
“I have news of the amulet.”
Silva crossed her long legs, green eyes reading the subtext from my face. “What went wrong?”
“The fence, Viktor—he was in possession of the item.” I downed the last of the coffee as the air around me buzzed. They must have caught my use of the past tense. Still, I clarified, “He’s gone.”
Ducks quacked in the distance. At least they took some of the edge off the silence.
“How can he be gone?” Kat, the witch on my right, asked. Her copper hair reflected the sunlight—and echoed the ominous roll of her magic building up in the atmosphere.
I didn’t particularly like her accusatory tone, as if I let the bastard slip away, but instead of going off, I focused my attention back on Silva. Of all three, she had the most power—but also the coolest head.
“He boarded a plane but never made it off,” I elaborated.
The buffed-up waiter crossed my line of sight so I gave the not-so-merry band of witches a silent sign I would continue once we were in the clear.
Despite the tension thick enough to cut with a machete, Silva quickly issued an opening for a meaningless conversation between four women enjoying a reprieve from work. One by one, we fell into our roles.
While I was used to pulling a last-minute performance out of my ass, I had to hand it to the witches. They were no amateurs.
The instant the waiter scurried off with their orders, Silva turned to me. “How could he disappear off an airplane? I thought you said he was human…”
“Through and through,” I confirmed. “The airline he used apparently wanted the amulet for themselves. But so did another party. A group of demons. They were the ones who hired Viktor in the first place, only Sacred Skies found out about the deal. Either one of them had the opportunity to make their move while Viktor was in the air.”
“So the amulet could be anywhere.” Silva’s eyes hardened, though there was something akin to fear behind the expression.
The ducks amped up their quacking.
“I have every intention of finding it. Even if I have more targets to cover.”
“Because you’ve done such an excellent job of it so far,” the blonde—Barbara or Barbra or something of the sort—snapped.
“Yeah?” I lowered my hands under the table to keep the witches from seeing the flickers of demon fire that had started to dance at my fingertips. “Well, don’t just chew my ass over the failure when you have a second specialist fucking up just the same. Obviously you expected the job to be hard given you went behind my back with your fucking safety net—and the results are still the same. I don’t see Reiner waltzing to a meeting with the amulet in his hand—do you?”
The blonde’s expression dripped with distaste, but Silva had gone dangerously still. “Reiner?”
“Yeah. The other assassin you put on the job.”
Silva exchanged a look with Kat, and even Barb dropped the attitude. I got the feeling I’d just said something wrong, but waited in the uncomfortable silence that stretched for what felt like forever thanks to the waiter who chose that precise moment to deliver the damn iced coffees.
None of us were in the mood to put up a charade this time.
The man, possibly sensing the stark shift in the atmosphere, scurried back inside the instant he deposited the drinks.
Once he was out of earshot, Silva pinched her lips and met my gaze. “We didn’t hire a second assassin.”
Chapter 16
The ducks erupted in another round of chatter, oblivious to the swarm of volatile charges ensconcing our table.
“You didn’t hire a second assassin?” I asked slowly, enunciating every word. “The name Reiner Razgor means nothing to you?”
Silva’s deep brown tresses swayed as she shook her head, a tick working in her jaw. Her coven sisters paled to the shade of napkins tucked under their iced coffees, but they didn’t take their gazes off Silva.
“The amulet is dangerous.” She rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand and muttered a few choice curses before she continued. “In the wrong hands, it could cause more harm than you can ever imagine. We didn’t dare risk alerting more people than was necessary to its disappearance. Your record is impeccable. That’s why we reached out to you. And you only.”
Well, fuck.
The demon fire receding, I lay my palms flat on the table and pushed up from the creaking wicker chair. “I’ll get you that amulet. Whatever it takes.”
Silva nodded, but I was already walking down the gravel path, the fire I had snuffed out on the outside now raging within. The instant I was beneath the canopy of trees, their wide trunks offering cover from any curious glances, I reached for my power and took to the air.
Golden light spilled across Ljubljana’s rooftops, the spring-tinted air brisk, but not unpleasant against my atoms. A perfect day for a hunt.
And I knew just the place to start.
Hortensia was a small bistro with a flowery name that was the exact opposite of its clientele. Tucked on the outer rim of Ljubljana’s Old Town, it embodied the daytime headquarters for most unsavory types working the eastern side. Though quite a few belonging to other turfs tended to make the trip.
Even I wasn’t a stranger to the place with its freshly baked breakfasts and coffee to die for.
I scanned the chalkboard set out front, outlining today’s deals. My currently nonexistent stomach rumbled at the idea of tasting one of their mozzarella sandwiches.
The traffic swallowed the doorbell’s tinkle as three more people—two warlocks and a vamp who occasionally dealt with Stane—pushed their way in and claimed the single free table left.
Just as it had been the past few times I’d visited, Hortensia was simply too crammed for my taste. I had no idea why the bistro had gained popularity over the past few years, but the influx of patrons resulted in my increasingly sporadic visits—right up until the point I stopped coming altogether.
Aside from dallying with Reiner—and, well, my brief relationship with Ilya before him—I liked to keep my business and private life separate.
Hortensia, unfortunately, had threatened to blur those lines. Especially when the trickle of outsiders had turned into a torrent—and even more so after I’d fucked a few from said torrent, which sometimes resulted in dates doomed from the very start.
My conclusion that a blend like that just didn’t work for me arrived shortly afterwards. I couldn’t say I was particularly surprised.
Signing off on an assassination deal then shifting a few tables over for drinks with a regular guy while lying my teeth off about who all these acquaintances saying hello truly were was fucking exhausting.
I hovered over the sidewalk on the opposite end of the street, observing the easy flow of Hortensia’s atmosphere that overcame even the thickest of crowds. Branches rustled overhead as I eased farther back and a little lower for a better view of the bistro’s interior.
It hadn’t been just the non-dark-side peeps I’d cut off when I made my choice. I spotted at least four familiar faces inside, all of them people who’d once welcomed me with open arms.
That was probably off the menu now.
Good thing I preferred solitude to endless talks about new marks, weapons, shifts in the underground power structure… Even if a part of me missed the camaraderie.
My attention homed in on a specific set of muscular arms that framed an even more muscular chest. Scratch that. I definitely didn’t miss all the camaraderie.
While I’d limited my visits to Hortensia, Reiner had turned the place into a second home. Not exactly surpr
ising. Where I had the advantage of particle form for listening in on conversations whenever I pleased, his go-to method involved mingling. Lots and lots of mingling, and, true to himself, the werewolf sat behind the corner table with seven other people engaged in conversation.
He’d dyed his hair an electric blue sometime since our run-in on the roof. I had to admit, the color really worked for him. As did the easy smile on his face. All in all, Reiner gave off the vibe as if he really were just enjoying breakfast with his friends, not storing info into that fascinating, if twisted, brain of his.
I sighed, my particles shifting as a truck sped by, and clamped down on the pang of hurt that threatened to split me in half.
Working for opposing parties kind of came with the job. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and I normally wouldn’t as much as blink at the conflict of interest. If anything, it gave a mission a nice, challenging twist.
But lying about it?
Now that was unacceptable.
We were thieves, spies, and killers. But we had our honor. Sure, you could double-time someone, mess with their job, whatever, really, as long as we had the basic facts straight.
Reiner should have told me he was working for another party.
His betrayal stung like a sonovabitch—there was no point denying it. But I had a choice. I could let his actions consume me—or I could mete out the punishment befitting the crime.
And possibly gain the amulet while I did so.
Right now, he seemed like the best suspect, regardless of who hired him.
I fluttered deeper into the shade of the birches and waited. Let him finish his coffee in peace. The least courtesy I could offer an old friend before I ripped his guts out.
The lying piece of filth took his sweet time chatting with fellow criminal minds, but in the end, their group disbanded. If I were a better person, I would have said I hoped their goodbyes were satisfactory. As it was…
Glaring at Reiner’s shock of blue hair with enough vitriol that it was a wonder his skull hadn’t ruptured, I trailed him down Ljubljana’s streets. Biding my time until the best opportunity to pounce his double-crossing ass waved its bejeweled hand in a go-for-it sign.
Probably sensing a predator in some subconscious pocket of the brain, the majority of pedestrians parted like water around him. Not once did the ass receive any of that typical king-of-the-sidewalk bullshit I usually had to deal with. Though I figured a lot of that had to do with the fact that Reiner himself was that prick.
The mighty male, laying claim on the pavement.
Even his damn strutting gait screamed of someone utterly sure of himself.
A snort fluttered through my mental tones—immediately backed up by a curse as something zinged through my atoms. I tensed, steeling myself for an attack when the flutter of wings momentarily blocked my vision.
A bird.
A fucking sparrow had speared me.
I grimaced, then quickly caught up with Reiner’s swaggering form. While a part of me admired the way his broad shoulders complemented that hard ass as he barreled down the street, the majority of my freshly recollected thoughts focused on the other main benefit his arrogance so kindly supplied.
The cocky prick wouldn’t see me coming.
After we hit the second intersection, Reiner veered towards an unimpressive building that appeared predominantly human-occupied. He pulled a ring of jingling keys from his pocket and let himself in. My particles surged forward through the gap and didn’t slow as Reiner went up the stone stairs in long leaps that spoke of his werewolf agility.
He stopped once he reached the topmost floor, then unlocked the only door up here. A small living area styled to look like a rudimentary reception area greeted me when I sailed inside, an oh-so-manly office to the right. I almost laughed at the image of the werewolf, sifting through paperwork like some ‘50s detective.
Reiner certainly was versatile.
And, as it seemed, had a knack of old-school aesthetics.
Since I’d never been here before—hadn’t even known he had an office—I took my time exploring the place while Reiner settled in. He stripped off his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his black button-up shirt, then sat behind the large desk and lit a cigarette from the crumpled pack he procured from his shirt’s front pocket. The plain white ashtray squeezed amidst the folders commandeering his desk was already overflowing with stomped-out butts. Not that Reiner cared.
I waited until he started thumbing through the papers—a kill assignment, by the looks of it—then positioned myself directly behind him.
Excitement buzzed through me as I inhaled and the magic responded immediately to my call.
My blow landed before Reiner’s nose caught my scent.
His head slammed against the desk, the cigarette flying from his fingers. I crushed his forehead against the wood again, but as the two equally thick elements connected, Reiner lashed out with his hand. He rammed his fist into my side with the entirety of his werewolf strength.
My grip on him loosened.
Fuck.
Faster than I could recover, Reiner pushed back and snagged me with the wooden backrest of his chair. I leaped and bunched my fingers in his shoulders as I somersaulted over the desk, taking the bastard with me.
The floorboards shook from the impact when we landed on the other side. Reiner growled, but quickly maneuvered himself onto all fours. Ready to lunge.
Fine. He was hard to beat.
But not invincible.
I scooped up some of my demon fire from the depths, let the blue embers lick at my hands, my legs. Flame knitted with flame until my little power display resembled some badass fucking armor.
Functional armor.
Reiner, however, didn’t give a fuck.
With a gleam in his eyes, he barreled right into my flaming torso.
Chapter 17
The stench of scorched skin suffused the office, but beneath it was another.
As I leaned against the desk and kicked Reiner’s muscular frame over myself to send him flying into the wall at my back, I chanced a look to my right. Shit.
Smoke rose from where his cigarette had set fire to the papers stacked in three piles beneath the window.
And the motherfucker was spreading.
I scrambled to the other end of the room—the farthest I could get away from the flames—then let Reiner come at me.
The werewolf didn’t disappoint.
I readied my stance, preparing myself to absorb the blow as he smashed into me, his body a godsdamned tank. Three of his punches landed in fucking mini-bombs of pain before I had him in the right position. I twisted around and yanked his arm back, popping it out of its socket.
Reiner snarled, but I delivered a blow to his kidneys that temporarily shut him up. Without wasting time, I cornered him, my demon fire burning as wildly as the orange blaze coming from the burning papers.
“Where’s the amulet, you lying sonovabitch?”
Reiner grinned in a cold flash of blood-stained teeth. “Finally caught up, Crina?”
“Fuck you.”
I sent a vine of my fire to hover just above his dick. Reiner arched an eyebrow, more amused than afraid that I was one step away from scorching his generous goods.
“Where. Is. The. Fucking. Amulet.”
He chuckled. “You’re not going to burn my cock. You love feeling it inside you too much.”
“Not as special as you think, Reiner.” With a flick of my wrist, I backed my words.
Hissing, Reiner flattened himself against the wall and glanced at the hole I’d burned through his pants—at the light pink shade of his yet unsinged cock.
“Bitch.”
“You bet.” I smiled, though it was all teeth and no spark. “Tell me where the amulet is and what you did to Viktor, and I promise I’ll keep you functional.”
My voice was becoming increasingly raspy with all the smoke filling the room, but at least I’d escaped any coughing fits. For now.
Reiner leveled his piercing blue gaze on me. “As much fun as sparring with you is, Crina, you know better than to expect me to hand over the info.”
I crushed my forearm across the hollow of his throat and placed my right palm atop his chest. Sputtering flickers of demon fire gradually ate away at his clothes.
The position granted Reiner more maneuvering space than was probably advisable, but he kept his hands—and feet—to himself. This close to his heart, my blue embers would be faster than any attack the were could come up with.
“Stop playing games, Reiner. I mean it. I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“I know you won’t, darlin’. This case has been exceptionally informative on the subject of a certain feisty little demon.”
The bastard was taunting me. And it was working.
Godsdamnit. My power flared, only briefly, the tips of my flames reaching up to Reiner’s hair, the shades of blue eerily alike.
I reined in my temper, but didn’t throw away the potential my outburst had presented.
Passing the display off as something I’d wanted to do, I cocked my head to the side and leaned on Reiner harder. “Talk.”
“Never told me your father sold you to your liege.” He laughed, the sound all whiskey and sex. “Pretty little half-demon, given into service just so old Vuyasin could get out of a debt. He got a nice sum for you, too, if not exactly worth your true value.”
Though I figured as much a long time ago, hearing the truth of my past from Reiner’s filthy lips stung. “So fucking what? Yelena trained me. Made me into the person that’s about to burn your balls off.”
I moved my hand from his head to his jewels for emphasis.
Reiner’s amusement curled through the accumulating smoke.
He thrust his hips forward. “Sure, you can do that. But I’m just a killer, Crina. It’s my employer who dug up all the little details your father and his cronies tried to suppress.”
