“Okay,” Alice replied warily.
“I have a contract for you. One that has had the fee paid in full.”
“Really?” she asked, startled. “Private or autho?” Private was someone who personally hired directly through the organisation for a substantial fee.
It’s where they got their nicknames as bounty hunters. They weren’t bounty hunters, at least, that’s not what her Paladin license said.
Autho were contracts passed on through the Met. In those situations the government helped fund the work, being as it technically classed as police work. It was the private jobs that kept S.I. running smoothly, as authority contracts were categorised as government work, which meant minimal funding.
“Private. It seems you made an impression with the local Alpha.”
“Seriously?” Alice felt excitement bubble, the thrill of a new contract exhilarating. “What for?”
“This is a very unusual situation. He didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”
“Didn’t give you much choice?”
Dread leant over to his phone, clicking a button on the receiver before a deep grumbling voice filled the room.
“Commissioner Grayson,” the phone’s speaker squeaked. “While it is in my interest to take matters further regarding the misunderstanding with one of your Paladins, I have an offer that will please both of us. I would like to hire Alice exclusively for a contract regarding pack business. I’ve emailed across the appropriate details and will meet with Alice personally for the rest. I look forward to hearing from you.” The receiver clicked off as the message ended.
“Why me?” That wasn’t how S.I. worked. You couldn’t pick and choose who worked on a case.
“Like I said, it’s unusual, but we don’t need the attention of The Council right now. His threats might be idle, but we cannot take the risk.” Dread reached into a drawer, bringing out another folder, this time yellow. Pushing it across the desk he handed it to her. “Mr Wild has your details and will contact you further with any more information.”
Picking up the folder she held it to her chest. “Anything else?”
“Don’t do anything reckless.”
Chapter 6
The car rattled to a stop with a puff of smoke, barely making it into the designated parking space. The Beetle always seemed to sigh once it was turned off, as if it overexerted itself simply by driving around town.
Reaching over she grabbed the folder as a loud bang echoed above her. Without thought, she flung the folder towards the suddenly open car door, holding her palm up in what she hoped was a threatening way. She was just glad she didn’t squeal.
“You are late, Miss Skye.”
“Huh?” She moved her palm out of the way, having to stretch her neck to see the man standing sullen by her door. He had the folder in one hand, having caught it when she threw it. His other hand was resting on the top of the car, with his body slightly stooped so he could catch her eye.
The Alpha had changed since she last saw him a few days ago, his eyes, as always, shielding any thoughts filtering through his brain. His face was clean-shaven, smooth enough to show his blemish free skin. From what she could see he wore a white buttoned up shirt, with the first couple buttons opened to reveal a tanned chest. His jaw was clenched as if he couldn’t control the slight annoyance that she was either late, or that she threw his own folder at him. Probably both.
“How am I late?”
“You left The Tower precisely two hours ago, you don’t live that far away.”
“You followed me?” she steamed as pushed out with her hand so she could get out the car. He moved enough for her to get out, but not enough that she didn’t have to brush against him slightly. She felt even more irritated. “How do you even know where I live?”
“You’re intelligent enough to understand how I know where you live, considering you just accused me of following you.” He leaned against her car, arms folded as he stared down at her.
She slammed the door shut, internally laughing when the noise and vibrations made him move away.
“As you are in possession of the folder, I assume you have accepted the contract?” He knew he hadn’t given her much choice, so she said nothing. “Can we go up to your place so we can discuss it in more detail?”
“Why couldn’t we have met at one of the conference rooms?”
“I prefer a more… personal setting.” When she hesitated, he handed her back the folder. “Miss Skye, you must understand that this contract is strictly pack business. That means anyone under contract by the pack would come under pack jurisdiction. Do you understand?”
“There’s a nice little coffee shop around the corner.”
“No. This is private.”
Alice weighed her options. “Fine.”
She started to make her way towards her home, assuming he would follow. When she opened her door a few minutes later he walked past, his gaze taking in the ruined carpet, cracks in the walls, and mould on the ceiling in one quick sweep. She had the urge to apologise for the state of the place, but didn’t.
He was the one who invited himself.
There was a loud techno beat pumping from one of her neighbours, the random thumps and pulses annoying. Alice whacked her hand against the living room wall, something she did regularly. There was no point shouting at them to turn it down, they couldn’t hear her anyway.
As Mr Wild went to look at her limited collection of books on her homemade shelf, she heard a knock. It took her a second to realise it wasn’t her neighbour whacking the wall back.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice called through the front door. “Alice, are you in there?”
Oh god, really?
“Mrs Finch,” Alice greeted as she opened the door slightly, blocking the view with her body. “Now is not a good time.”
“Oh Alice, turn this awful music down.” The old woman pushed the door open further, letting herself in along with one of her dogs. “Oh!” She stopped when she noticed Mr Wild. “I didn’t know you had company.” She turned her attention back to Alice, the glasses she normally kept secured around her neck sitting on the bridge of her nose, making her chestnut eyes huge in her too-small face. “Alice you should have said you had a young man over. I never see you with anyone, I would have brought over my famous tea.”
“He’s just a work colleague, Mrs Finch.”
“Oh, pity.” Her dog cowered by her legs, letting out a tiny growl as it faced the Alpha. “Now stop it Mr Toodle’s,” she scolded the dog. “I’m sorry, he is never this rude.” She grabbed the shaking poodle. “Remember my dear, you would make a great wife.” She made sure she looked back at Mr Wild for the last part.
“Goodbye, Mrs Finch.” She gently closed the front door behind the old woman. Alice always thought it was strange that she encouraged her to marry any man that would take her, yet Sam wasn’t allowed alone with a partner. Admittedly, he did bring home a lot of partners.
“Make sure you turn this music down,” she called through the door.
“Nice neighbours,” Mr Wild murmured.
“She’s okay when she isn’t propositioning everyone to be my husband.” She thought she heard a slight laugh, but when she turned to face him she decided she must have heard wrong. She threw the folder onto the side table before taking a seat on the sofa. “Now, Mr Wild…”
“It’s Rex,” he interrupted, distracted. “Do you have cats?” he asked as he perched himself on the chair’s arm.
“Cats?” She looked around in case she hadn’t realised a cat had somehow gotten in. “Oh, my roommates a leopard.”
“Ah.” He folded his arms across his chest, nose wrinkled.
Great, she thought to herself. Not only does the place look awful, it stinks too.
“So, you don’t get many male visitors then?”
No way was she going to touch that.
“Shall we start?” she asked in her most professional voice. She opened the folder, frowning when she noticed o
nly three small Polaroid photographs inside. She tipped the folder upside down just in case there was something stuck, but nothing else came out. She laid out the three photographs neatly, looking at each in turn.
All three were pictures of deaths, two male and one female. They were all different people, yet all three photos were eerily similar. In every one the skin and muscle of the deceased had been peeled from the bone, blood a stark contrast as it congealed along the wounds around their arms and throats.
Alice looked closer, deciding they looked self-inflicted. The female photograph clearly showed skin and blood beneath her fingernails, the size and shape matching the ligature marks around the larger wounds.
“This is all the evidence you need. This is what happens when we don’t find my wolf.”
“Find?” She looked up at the Alpha then, noticing how he wouldn’t look at the photographs, instead watching her. “Is one of your wolves missing?”
“Yes. These are previous wolves that, over the last year, have gone missing. They all end up the same way.”
Alice silently gasped, wondering if he was serious. He had said it without an ounce of emotion so it was hard to decide. “Could they not have just decided to leave?” And had really bad luck, she wanted to add.
“Pack life is very different Miss Skye, and difficult to understand if you’re not a shifter. They are allowed their own lives but they must be part of the pack structure. There are no lone wolves in my territory.”
“Have they been autopsied?” She would be interested to confirm how they got some of their wounds.
“No. It wasn’t needed.”
“Wasn’t needed? Something in the report could’ve helped…”
“It wouldn’t have.” He wouldn’t budge.
She pursed her lips. “How long has your wolf been missing?”
“His name is Roman, and it’s been about four weeks.”
“Four weeks?” She felt her eyebrows rise. “That’s a long time…”
“He isn’t dead yet Miss Skye.” He quickly looked away. “I would know.”
“I didn’t mean…” Fuck. What could she say to that? “Do you have any other useful information?”
“None that is relevant.”
Relevant?
“Do you have any leads for me?”
He scanned her face for a second before answering. His eyes dark enough to tell her it was the man looking at her reactions and not the wolf. “Yes, there is a male wolf in my territory that has become a person of interest. He has been seen on several occasions talking to my men.” He glanced down at the photographs before coming back to her. “I hear he will be in Underworld tonight.”
“The club?” Alice’s ears perked up, she had never been to the upscale Breed nightclub. “It takes months to get on the list…”
“It’ll be your job to get in then, wouldn’t it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “So you want me to find this mystery man and what?”
“Your job will be to get as much information from him as possible. By any means necessary.”
“I can’t just torture him.” Also illegal as hell.
“You will do everything in your power to get the job done. Remember who is paying your wage at the moment Miss Skye.”
“It’s Agent, Mr Wild. Make sure you remember that.” She had about enough of his attitude.
“My men call me Sire.”
Alice just heard white noise. He couldn’t possibly be asking her to call him Sire? Could he? “That’s nice for you.” No way in hell.
“Fine Agent Skye, you may call me Rex.” He started to get up.
“Then you may call me Alice.” She also stood, feeling uncomfortable to continue sitting when he towered over her.
She flipped the photographs over, not wanting to look at them anymore.
“This is your target.” He handed her another Polaroid, this time from his jeans pocket.
She analysed it as he opened her front door. “Wait, will you be there tonight?”
“No, I have prior engagements.” He seemed to hesitate at the threshold. “I have instructed my pack to stay away also, I don’t want them to interfere.” He patted down his pockets before finding a leather scrap. “Before I forget, this is for you.” He reached over and grabbed her arm, his thumb stroking the underside of her wrist as he double knotted the leather. “It’s a charm, a warning to any shifters that you are off limits.”
She stared at the leather plaited bracelet, noticing a crescent moon pendant attached in the middle. “Will this not warn the lone wolf I’m hunting tonight?”
He looked at her as if it was a stupid question. “I will contact you tomorrow regarding any information you discover. Do not miss my phone call.” With that he walked away.
Chapter 7
The night air felt electric as Alice waited patiently outside the club, the bright red ‘Underworld’ sign illuminating the line of people waiting behind the long red rope.
“I knew I would get you on a date ma petite sorcière,” Danton smiled devilishly.
“It’s not a date,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Ah, that’s what you think.” D just chuckled, adjusting his white shirt to show as much skin of his chest as possible. The colour made his skin even more ghostly pale, bringing out his dark eyes and hair in contrast.
“I appreciate you getting me into the club, although, I think we’re both overdressed,” she mused, playing with the hem of her dress as she gazed across the crowd of people waiting. The dress she had chosen was provocative enough to show off her limited assets, her breasts considered on the small side. The black fabric was cut low at the front, hinting at a slow curve of flesh with the hem just above her knee. Twin knives were strapped high on her thighs, small blades unlike the one she normally carried down her spine, her favoured sword not able to hide in the backless garment.
“You, my dear petite sorcière…” D touched her bare back in reassurance, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Look breathtaking.” His breath teased her throat. “These women have nothing on your beautè.”
“They also have nothing on,” Alice noted, shocked at the women’s, and even some men’s choice of attire. People were pushing the rule of appropriate clothing allowed in public, some only wearing a G-string and a smile, while others had taken hi-vis on to a whole new level. “What sort of club is this?”
Danton didn’t even look at them, his interest only for her. “Come, Alice, our table is booked inside.” His hand pressed into her back.
“This is a job, not a date.” Alice quickly felt under her dress for her knives, making sure the leather holsters were tight to her thighs. If someone happened to glance over they would think she was flashing the crowd, but who were they to judge? “I’m looking for someone…”
“Oui oui, I know, a man with black spiky hair. Can you give me any more information?”
“Only this.” She opened her clutch to grab the Polaroid, allowing D to study the grainy photograph of the man.
“Dark hair, dark eyes with pale skin.” D looked up at her, his flirtatiousness gone, replaced with professionalism. He could do that, use his sexuality to tease, get his own way. How could you trust someone who could turn it on and off like a light switch?
This was why she didn’t date.
“You sure he isn’t a vampire?” A direct question.
She shook her head. “You’re here to be my spotter.”
“Of course. Let me be your arm candy tonight then.”
“Lead the way.”
Underworld was situated in the Breed district, an old warehouse turned club with a waiting list as long as her arm. The building was painted charcoal grey straight over the brick, with black painted windows looking more like an abandoned asylum than the nightclub apparently hidden inside. Alice stood underneath the large, red neon sign above the metal door, the clubs name manipulated in the glass as a faint beat vibrated through the pavement.
“Come on.” D guided her towards
the Bouncer, ignoring the glares from the line.
“Evening Mr Knight,” the Bouncer welcomed, a huge man of at least six feet, five inches. “Your usual table is ready.” He lifted the red rope blocking the door, biceps bulging.
“Welcome to Underworld, where all your darkest desires come true,” the woman behind the desk greeted, a fake smile plastered on her face. Her dark hair was tied up into twin peaks at the top of her head, the strands hair-sprayed into fake horns. Her too white teeth flashed beneath blood red lips. “Mr Knight,” she nodded towards D, the politeness forced.
“Maggie.” He turned on his seductive smile. “How have you been?”
She ignored him, her smile wavering before she recovered. “Ma’am, have you been to our venue before?”
“Oh, no I haven’t.” Alice tried to ignore the tension.
“Then I will recite the rules. There is no shifting or magic on the premises. Anybody shifting or conducting magic, even something small, will be immediately removed and banned.” She pointedly looked at Alice as if she was secretly accusing her of something. “Sharing blood is allowed only as long as it’s consented and kept clean. Sex is also allowed as long as it's consented but you can only do that in the booths. Not on the dance floor.”
“Sex? That’s a joke right?” She looked at D for confirmation. “Bloody hell, really?”
“If someone doesn’t leave you alone you are allowed to contact a bodyguard who will assess the situation and decide if one or both of you need removing. Bodyguards can be found hanging around the edges.”
“Okay.” Alice tried not to worry. She didn’t really know what she was getting herself into.
“You may enter through the curtain, enjoy.”
“Did you kill her cat or something?” Alice whispered to him as they passed through the thick curtain.
Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1) Page 6
