I glanced up at Andre, who was looking at me with wide eyes, a hand on his chest in shock. He even breathed heavily.
It was the most emotion and movement I’d ever seen from him.
“M-Masters,” he sputtered between breaths. “Y-You—”
That’s when I spotted Jean behind him, standing on the bar with a long skinny dagger raised above his head, ready to swipe Andre’s head off his shoulders.
Without a second thought, I raised my gun and fired off two shots right into Jean’s chest. Eyes widening in complete shock, he dropped his knife and stumbled backward, falling off the bar and taking down the glass shelves and liquor bottles on the wall behind him.
Vamps were notoriously fast, but my demon blood gave me the advantage. And it came in quite handy when killing these blood-suckers.
Andre whipped around, taking in what had almost happened, and then glanced back at me.
That’s when I realized the club’s thumping music was no longer playing and had been replaced with the screams of every human and supernatural patron as they clamored to the emergency exits. Chaos surrounded us. In the rush for safety, people knocked over tables and dropped their drinks, practically crawling over each other to get out.
Oops. So much for not causing a ruckus.
When the club cleared out, only the vampire employees remained. Security guards, dancers, and waiters moved in closer to us to gauge the situation and their boss’s incoming instructions.
Becoming his normal rigid self again, Andre turned back to me.
“How did you know?” was all he said.
I shrugged and holstered my gun again. “It’s my job to know.”
Head tilted to the side, Andre considered me for a long moment. Intrigued. “So it is…”
I could almost see the wheels turning under all that long blond hair of his. He was wondering if and when he could use my skills again. In retaliation to the Omari family, perhaps. And that would mean another potential job offer for me.
The thing was, even if Andre offered me all the money in the world, I’d never do it.
Don’t get involved in the vampire gangs or their feud. Not only was it a guaranteed suicide mission, it was a sure step to a huge civil war. There was no organized crime either the Perez, the DeMonte, or the Omari families didn’t have their hands in. So, if all that went up in smoke, you better believe it’d spill over into the human world, and that was a whole other issue.
So, no. I wouldn’t touch that offer with a ten-foot pole.
Glancing at the Omari’s still trembling body, Andre kicked his foot hard enough for bones to crack then peered over the bar at Jean’s equally incapacitated form.
“What a fool,” he spit, his French accent clinging to every word. “And what does that make me? An even bigger one, I suppose, for trusting him for so long. Allowing him into my business. Thinking of him as an ally. A friend.”
He meant Jean. Obviously. He had hired him and trusted him as his right-hand man for months. Only to be betrayed by him in the end.
“Looks like some scheme he’d planned for a while. Infiltrate one of the enemy’s businesses, get close to you, gain your trust, then strike,” I said. “He was probably reporting to the Omaris the entire time.”
Andre nodded. “I think you’re right.” Then he turned to the other hovering vamps around the room and raised his voice to an intimidating volume. “Are there any more of you vermin here? Anyone else meant to try and take me down?”
No one moved. No one even breathed.
His hardened gaze traveled the length of the club, meeting the eyes of every one of his employees. “I’ll sniff you out. And then I’ll dispatch you.”
Quick, short, and to the point, but a hell of a terrifying threat.
Still, not a soul moved. The words had sunk in, it seemed. Loud and clear.
When Andre gestured to four of the closest vamps, the cement that had once glued them to their spots now lifted and they hurried over to obey. Without uttering another word, Andre merely flicked his wrist toward the two unconscious traitors, and the four knew just what to do. Each pair grabbed either Jean or the Omari and began hauling them up the stairs to their VIP area and sleeping quarters.
There had to be a holding cell up there, too.
“I won’t be making that mistake again,” Andre said, voice now softer and full of disappointment. Probably in himself and his poor judgment. “Still, Masters, I owe you my life.”
I was about to wave the comment away but stopped myself. In my line of work, favors were just as valuable as money sometimes. And having an old, powerful vampire like Andre DeMonte in my debt could come in handy down the line.
He placed a pale hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “I am in your debt.”
Perfect.
Watching as the Omari vamp disappeared at the top of the stairs and behind the tinted glass that lined the upper floor, I said, “What do you suppose he wanted?”
Andre sighed. “Seemed he was angry about his brothers. Which I know nothing about.”
Right.
Didn’t believe that one for a second.
Even though I knew there was more to the story than what Andre was letting on, I didn’t press for more. The three vampire families have been warring for centuries. Why? Hell if I knew. But hatred that old ran deep and couldn’t be fixed easily. Exactly why I didn’t want to get caught up in such business.
“Masters!”
I spun around to see Michael rushing over to us.
Oh shit. I had forgotten about him and our meetup.
Why hadn’t he cleared out with the rest of the club-goers at the sounds of the gunshots and the chaos?
“Michael,” I started, unsure what even to say. “Sorry about rushing off so fast, but as you can see—”
Michael shook his head, strands of his once slicked-back hair now dancing in front of his face. “You’re hired,” he spat out suddenly.
“What?”
Michael stood up a little straighter and fixed his tie, regaining his composure. As he pushed his hair back with a quick swipe of his hand, he said, “You’re hired for the job. No need for a test. I’ve seen enough here today and am confident in your abilities.”
“But Fernando…”
“I’ll be telling him my report immediately upon my exit.” He gave a subtle nod to Andre out of respect before looking at me again. “I’ll be in touch.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the club.
Huh. That was weird, but I’d take it.
A simple appointment had turned into a sorcerer’s secret agenda, vampire assassins, a life debt, deadly coups, and the securing of a new client…
Not too bad for a single night’s work.
Through my normal poking around, I knew exactly where to find Fernando. It wasn’t exactly hard, him being the head of a very prominent law firm in Fairport’s business district. The Flores Law Firm owned one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city—that’s right, owned. Not rented. And even more unbelievably, it was one of many buildings Fernando Flores bought. His business had expanded nationwide, and he was looking to broaden his business even more so.
A big shot in the spellcaster world and the corporate one.
When I stepped into the modern lobby, I was halted by three security guards and a metal detector. The woman guard held out a bucket and gestured for me to remove my backpack and jacket. I hesitated. It wasn’t like I was carrying school books in there.
“Mr. Flores does not allow weapons in his office,” the woman said. “You must leave everything here with us.”
The one male guard, the one with a bald head, grabbed for my backpack, but I shrugged him away. “I’ll be getting my things back when I’m done. Right?”
“Of course,” the woman said. “We’ll be locking them in a secured, locked closet. There.” She pointed to a standing metal storage container.
I didn’t trust anyone with my backpack, security detail or not. “I want the
key,” I said, hand out.
Her eyes widened. “We can’t—”
“Let him have the key,” the third guard said, a large guy with an earpiece in. “Mr. Flores is growing impatient.”
After shrugging off my bag and my jacket, I handed them over to the woman and watched her carefully as she placed them into the closet.
“Your guns,” the bald guard said. “All of them.”
I unholstered my two pistols on my belt, unloaded them swiftly, and passed them to her, too. Then I pulled off my belt and put it in her waiting bucket.
“All of them,” the big one pressed, not believing I had fully unarmed. And he was right. I lifted my pant leg to reveal a secret strap and gun on my calf. I followed the same procedure and it was locked away with the rest of my guns.
“Hands up,” he said and waved for me to walk through the metal detector. I followed orders, but the moment I stepped forward, all the bells and whistles of the machine went off. The guard eyed me suspiciously.
I sighed. “Fine.” And reached under my shirt and took out the two long knives I had hidden there. I threw them into the bucket, too.
The woman guard stared at me gaping. “Damn.”
Could never be too prepared in my line of work.
When I went through the metal detector again, it was silent, but the guard in charge wasn’t convinced yet. He instructed me to hold out my arms and spread my legs so he could pat me down.
“Do you want me to bend over and cough, too?” I asked as he checked my pockets and ran the back of his hands over my pant legs.
He huffed, unamused, and touched the earpiece. “He’s coming up now,” he told the man on the other end. Then, he gestured for me to follow him.
With one last glance at my locked things in the closet, I trudged forward, walking with the guard down a hallway to another more private elevator set in the back of the building. Quickly, he punched in the code on the keypad but not discreetly enough for me not to have caught the numbers.
14-73-80-92 ENTER.
I’d have to remember that for later.
When the guard glanced at me, I adverted my eyes. When the elevator doors opened, we both stepped inside. Looked like I was getting an escort all the way up to Fernando.
The trip was awkward and a bit uncomfortable. The guard’s eyes never left me. Even in the cramped space with nowhere to go, he still didn’t trust me enough to look away, and it was growing more annoying by the second.
My skin began to prickle as my irritation grew—my demon blood raising with my anger—the elevator chimed at our arrival.
I stepped into a huge circular room with all black leather and a contemporary feel. Fernando was where you’d expect, standing behind his desk and looking out the window at the city below him. A typical man of power looking down at the insignificant people below. I’d dealt with enough people like him to know how this next part went.
What interested me more than the level-three sorcerer was the fancy display case on his desk made of polished wood and thick glass. Inside, lights illuminated an old, medieval-looking key carefully cradled on a purple silk pillow.
A valuable antique or something more? Something magical?
Fernando turned to me and grinned. Dark hair greased back and professionally dyed to keep his true age hidden, but patches of gray peppered his neatly trimmed beard and mustache instead. “Masters! Welcome!” he said with arms open wide like we were long-time friends. “How are you?”
Behind me, the guard walked back into the elevator to leave us alone. I waited for the doors to close before answering him. But I wasn’t into pleasantries. “Just tell me the job,” I grumbled. Like I’d said, dancing around the subject wasn’t my style.
He hesitated, eyes widening, but after a moment, gestured for me to take one of the chairs in front of his desk. I refused.
Without my weapons, I already felt vulnerable. Sitting would only put me in a more defensive position, and I wasn’t going to risk it. I still had my Hellfire if I had to use it, but that was my last resort—as always. Using my fire gift only awakened the demon side of me and brought me closer to becoming one of those Halfling creatures, and I wasn’t going to tap into that part of myself unless I had no other choice. I knew from experience how hard it was to stop using it.
Eyeing me for a moment, Fernando walked around his desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. The broad, over-friendly smile never left his face. “I need you to take care of Richard Valentine for me,” he said simply, as if he were inviting me to dinner instead of telling me to off a guy.
“As in Richard Valentine, your biggest competition?” Was I surprised by this? Not in the least. During my searching and questioning around, I’d found that wherever Fernando Flores’s name was, Richard Valentine’s was right after. The two had years of bad blood between them, first starting as friends and partners in business before their ideals ultimately caused them to split apart and erect their own law firms. Now they were rivals in the industry, trying to knock the other down at any given chance.
Looked like Fernando was done fucking around. If he couldn’t take Valentine’s firm out through normal business practices, he’d take him out the old-fashioned way.
His expression took on a different form, his eyes twinkling with his true darker intentions. “You’ve done your homework I see.”
I shrugged, knowing looking into his past would probably be the easiest part of the job. “I like to know my potential clients.”
“Ah, well then you know Valentine and I have been at odds for some time.”
My gaze flicked to the display case again and the key. “And that he’s refused to sell to you multiple times.”
Following my eyes, he smiled. “Like it?” he asked and touched the glass. “The Key of Fotheringhay is said to have belonged to Mary, Queen of Scots, who was also a witch. Did you know that? Well, before she was beheaded, that is. It’s one of my most prized possessions and absolutely priceless.”
I could tell. The elaborate set up gave that away before the explanation.
“Is it charmed?” I asked. That’s what I really wanted to know.
“Of course,” he replied. “Can open any locked door anywhere, no matter the spell placed upon it.”
That took me by surprise. Any door? Any lock? Even magically bound ones? That was one powerful key.
Not that I needed something like that, but it would make breaking into places to do my jobs a hell of a lot easier.
“There’s no other like it,” Fernando went on, too proud to care that he was revealing all this to me.
I, though, was already pushing the limits of my patience. It was time to get this conversation back on track. “About the job—”
“Ah, yes.” His fingers drifted from the case to the swinging pendulum beside it, which he fiddled with. “Valentine. I’ve offered him more than his firm’s worth on many occasions, but, still, he refuses me. He has too much pride, that one.”
Something told me he wasn’t the only one.
“Maybe it’s not about the money to him,” I muttered under my breath.
“It’s always about money,” Fernando snapped, the first time his tone had taken on any malice. Clearing his throat, he quickly dialed it back to the forced honeyed version and readjusted the knot of his tie. “You, of all people, should know that. You’re not in this business because you enjoy the sport of it, are you?”
My reasons for killing for a living went way beyond that. The money was nice—I wasn’t going to deny that—but when the demon blood coursing through my veins craved chaos and danger, this was the only way I was able to curb the addiction and avoid using my Hellfire.
Since I was the oldest unchanged half-demon that I knew of, I’d say the strategy was working.
“Valentine is an important person,” I started as I thought over the assignment ahead of me—if I were to take it. “That’ll make my job harder.”
“Oh? I was told you were the best. If you can’t perfo
rm…”
Perform? What the fuck was he getting at? Was that a personal jab? Because it sure sounded that way. Anger flared inside, stirring the demon from its sleep.
“I said harder. Not impossible,” I said through clenched teeth. I rolled my shoulders and drew in a deep breath to settle myself. It didn’t help. “I can do it, but it raises the stakes.”
“And raises the price. I understand.” Walking around the desk, he opened the topmost drawer and pulled out a leather checkbook. Then he grabbed a pen. “I’m prepared to pay. Whatever the cost.”
I knew better than to think Fernando was going to this extreme just because he wanted to take out a business rival. It went deeper than that. This was personal.
And did that mean I could throw out any number I’d want, and he’d pay it?
“Twenty thousand,” I said.
Fernando’s pen hovered over the check as if he hadn't expected that price.
“I should mention…” he began, his eyes lifting, “Valentine’s successors must be dealt with as well, otherwise the company is passed down to the next in line.”
“He has a wife?” I asked.
“And children. A twenty-something-year-old son and a daughter.”
That made me hesitate. Only briefly, but still. Why hadn’t he mentioned this before? Did he think it’d change my mind? Or did he want to ease me into the true gravity of the job?
“You want me to take care of all of them, too, you’re saying.”
His wide-mouth grin returned. “I need you to do whatever it takes to assure the company is crippled enough for me to swoop in and save it.”
Yeah, save it. Sure.
If I’d learned anything from being a paid mercenary, it was that sometimes the living were just as devious and ruthless as demons. But as fucked up as it was, it kept me in business.
“That's not going to be a problem, is it?” Fernando pressed.
I rubbed my jaw, pretending to be contemplating his offer. Really, I was just trying to keep him on his toes.
Halfling for Hire Page 2
