by Fatima Fayez
Javier frequently tried to encourage me to take Alliance open bounties, but the jobs weren't worth it. He kept those jobs for his top bounty hunters to show the Alliance that he had a superior staff. I believed the dwarf enjoyed rubbing it in the Alliance’s face that his team could locate people that their organization couldn't. I always left those jobs to Luke and Tahani.
The other open bounties were for witches and wizards who owed money, fae conmen, and trolls that had caused trouble and were hiding out. Taking a troll bounty was a fool's burden, especially since most were requests to bring them back alive. Trolls were notoriously difficult to transport, and they smelled worse than demons. At least I was nose-blind with demon-smell since my clothes always reeked of brimstone, but with trolls even I could smell their stink.
There weren't any vampires or shifters in the stack of bounties. It was rare to see them. The last shifter I had taken was a random occurrence. The pack took care of its own, and the vampires were a secretive bunch who tended to take care of their issues their way. They didn't air their dirty laundry.
"I don't really see anything I'm interested in." None of them seemed like a challenge.
"Take that demon." Javier pointed at a sheet close to him. "It pays well enough, and it will be a breeze for you."
I scanned the sheet. An average-looking guy stared back at me. Donnie the demon. Bounty open for reneging on an outstanding loan. Wanted alive.
"Okay, I'll do it." They might be tricky and stink, but demons were my specialty. I grabbed the paper, and Javier logged onto his computer to list me as on the job.
"I'll be seeing you." I got up from my chair and left Javier's office.
He called out after me. "Don't kill him! They pay more when you bring them back alive."
That was going to be a problem. My favorite kind of demon was a dead demon.
Chapter Three
Each bounty I accepted started the same way. First, I had to get the job from Javier. Then, I had to do the research. Lastly, I caught my target.
It was the part in between the research and catching the target that was most exciting for me. I relied on an elite, handpicked network in Barcelona to help me get the information I needed, comprised of three contacts.
I headed over to the one person who could acquire all of the demon's financial records: Ibrahim.
Ibrahim and I had met after my roommate, Noor, introduced us. As the daughter of an angel and demon, Noor had learned early on to seek out friendships wherever and whenever possible, since both communities had shunned her. As a result, I was exposed to a lot of supernaturals that I wouldn't have formed friendships with elsewhere, such as vampires like Ibrahim.
Ibrahim spent a lot of time at my favorite restaurant, Miguel's. I often shared a table with him when I took a lunch break. He was one of my few vampire friends. Our relationship was more transactional, but he could be relied on for information for free. Some of the time.
Ibrahim lived alone in a big house in Eixample. It was some distance away from the bounty office. I drove when I had to travel long distances, but I preferred to walk around the city or use public transportation for local adventures.
I took the metro and walked the rest of the way to his house. It was a cool September night, so I pulled my jacket closer to my body and enjoyed the fresh breeze.
I admired the beautiful homes in the affluent neighborhood. It was quiet this late at night, and I kept to the shadows to avoid suspicion if someone happened to be awake and looking out the window.
I knocked when I got to his front door, but there was no answer. I waited a few minutes and debated if I wanted to track him down at Miguel's, but decided against it. I took out a pad from within my jacket and wrote down my request for information. I slipped the note under his door. Ibrahim hated technology and was useless when it came to communication by phone or email. Getting in touch with him always had to be done the old-fashioned way. Payments for jobs were always sent to my email, but I didn't know if he did it himself or someone else did it for him. Sometimes I wondered if he just didn’t want to make it easy for me to reach him. Vampires were contrary that way.
Satisfied that he would find the note whenever he returned home, I turned away from Ibrahim's front door and put my hands in my pockets. My fingertips traced the cold, steel edge of my daggers. It was a reassuring feeling. As desperate as I was for my own bed, I had to make one more stop before I went home: the Gothic Quarter.
My other network was the gargoyles.
I decided to take the long way to the Gothic Quarter and strolled across the long strip of Avinguda Diagonal and then down Passeig de Gràcia. The street was empty, all the boutiques long closed for the day. I glanced at the overpriced fashions in the window displays. The sidewalks outside Gaudí's most famous buildings were clear of gawkers in long lines. I reached the end of the street by El Corte Inglés, Spain's largest department store, and decided to walk down Las Ramblas.
Easily the most popular street for tourists, the long stretch was littered with small stores selling Barcelonan souvenirs during the day, but at this time of night it was nearly abandoned. No tourists crowded the streets, no pickpockets lurked to take advantage of a careless visitor. All the artists and performers had packed up their gear and disappeared, only to show up bright and early in the morning. The only time I voluntarily ventured down Las Ramblas during the daytime was to visit La Boqueria. I loved the market, and nothing could keep me away, not even the crowds.
Halfway down Las Ramblas, I took a left and stepped into the winding alleys that made up the Gothic Quarter. I enjoyed wandering around its labyrinthine streets. The area was full of history and rich architecture, much like the rest of Barcelona, but the best part about the place was that it was closed to vehicular traffic, so walking was the preferred method of travel. I reached the square and gazed up at the Barcelona Cathedral. The roof was full of gargoyles shaped of ordinary and mythical creatures.
Most of the gargoyles would be asleep at this hour, but Mateu was always up for anything. I went to his home, a bridge where he overlooked passing pedestrians. His eyes were closed.
"Mateu. Wake up," I called up to the dozing gargoyle.
His eyes blinked open. "What are you doing here?"
"Come on down and I'll tell you.”
He climbed down from the bridge, and we walked away from the cathedral. I didn't want the other gargoyles to overhear our conversation. They were notorious gossips, and there was no need for word to reach the demon that I was after him. I'd had bounties leave the country as soon as they found out I was coming for them. I preferred to get the job done locally.
"What's the talk around the cathedral?" I asked Mateu as we made our way through the streets around the giant building.
"It's been dull. No salacious gossip." Mateu shrugged. "Well, no more than the usual. The latest chatter has been about the new intake."
"New intake?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
"The dragon shifters' program. The other gargoyles are excited to have new humans to talk to."
Each year, the dragon shifters opened up the opportunity for humans to enter the magical world through an extensive interview and training process. It was one of the few exceptions to exposing the supernatural world to humans. A while back, a committee of supernaturals voted on allowing the program's existence, and it had been approved. The program trained select humans to accept the supernatural so that the supernatural community could make use of them later, when they grew up and took on important roles in the human community. Humans might not know about the supernaturals, but we manipulated human politics and relations every day.
"That should be nice for you," I said. The gargoyle loved to meet new people. "Anything else?"
"The vampires are quiet, as usual. You never hear a whisper from them. There are rumors we're going to be exposed."
"Those rumors resurface every few months." I waved him off. I used to hear these rumors and more all the time from my ex-
boyfriend, Sebastian.
Mateu shook his head. "Something feels different this time."
"What do you mean?" I trusted Mateu's instincts.
"I'm not sure. I just have a strange feeling about this one. The chatter seems a little more focused."
I frowned. The threat of exposure affected all of us. "Let me know if you hear more."
Every few months or so, there would be someone new who insisted that we should reveal our presence to humans. The consensus from our society was that supernaturals should remain hidden. There were some exceptions, like the dragon shifters' program, but overall revelation of our world was absolutely controlled. The Alliance of Supernatural Protectors even had a special unit focused on suppressing human awareness of supernaturals. From time to time, though, they'd slipped up. That was how humans found out about witches and tried to burn them at the stake throughout history.
My ex-boyfriend had been a huge supporter of supernaturals revealing themselves to the humans. It was one of the few things we vehemently disagreed on. He justified it by thinking that supernaturals and humans could work together and mutually benefit from the relationship. Or maybe he had more sinister thoughts and wanted to force humans into submission. But there was a reason we remained hidden: if humans knew they were no longer at the top of the food chain, they would make it their mission to destroy us. I had no doubt about that.
Mateu and I finally left the gargoyles’ vicinity as we reached the small square where the stores were.
"Are you going to tell me now what it is you want?" Mateu asked.
"I thought you would enjoy a nighttime stroll with me." I pouted.
"Yes, I always appreciate being woken up late just so somebody can ask me for a favor." His words dripped with irony.
“You love gossip more than sleep,” I teased him. I knew that the gargoyle loved helping me. He’d saved my skin in the past, and in return, I always came to him with choice gossip gleaned from my experiences.
“You’re right there,” he chuckled. “What do you need?”
"Do you know this demon? I need information on him." I showed him the sheet of paper Javier had given me.
Mateu studied the paper and shook his head. "No, I've never seen him before. What's he done?"
"The usual. Skipped out on his debts. People want to collect."
"I'll ask around," he said.
"Could you have something for me by tomorrow night?"
"What's the hurry? What happened to the shifter you were tracking?"
"I found him."
Mateu gave me a speculative look. "Did he make it out alive?"
I shook my head.
"You're going to get in trouble with the dragon shifters," Mateu snorted.
"He was a wolf," I reassured him.
The gargoyle rolled his shoulders. "He's still one of Diego's."
"I've killed shifters before. No one's come after me." I paused. “Besides, this one kind of killed himself.”
Mateu tilted his head. “What?”
“He pulled out his own intestines. It was very dramatic and pointless.” I shrugged. “So it doesn’t really count as my kill.”
"I don’t think Diego will split the difference. Be careful," Mateu warned.
"Thanks. I appreciate your advice," I said in a solemn tone.
Mateu snorted at my words. He knew I wouldn't listen. He scratched an ear. “The Alliance is investigating a serial killer.”
I frowned. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”
“They’re keeping details quiet. They don’t want members of the community to panic.”
“How did you learn about it?”
The gargoyle smirked. “I have my sources.”
Mateu’s sources were one of the reasons I kept returning to him for information. His deep relationships within the community afforded him access to details that I could never attain. I trusted him; on two occasions, his information had saved my life. We had since developed an easy friendship with a mutual respect for the other.
“What kind of serial killer? Who does he target?” I asked him. He sat up and told me what he knew. I waited until he finished to ask my question. “Is the Alliance certain that this serial killer will continue to operate in Barcelona?”
He shrugged. “That’s what they’re looking into now.”
“If you come across anything that sounds like it’s part of this case, let me know.”
“I will,” I promised Mateu. "Want me to walk you back?"
"I think I'll stay here for some time."
I waved at him and left, making my way back home. I lived in the neighborhood across the street from the Gothic Quarter. I crossed Via Laietana and made my way through the crooked streets of El Born, passing the Santa Maria del Mar Cathedral as I mulled over my thoughts. I passed street cleaners washing away the day's dirt, kiosk managers closing up their carts, and love-struck couples taking a late-night stroll. Somewhere in Barcelona there were always people up and about, no matter what time it was. It was one of the things I loved most about the city.
As I turned the corner, I chanted under my breath, throwing on an invisibility spell. It was a habit when returning home. Home meant safety, and I took precautions to ensure it remained that way.
My mother had taught me that just because you didn't see anyone following you didn't mean there wasn't someone there. She had always been paranoid, telling me it was better to be paranoid than to be dead. I tried not to live my life being terrified of my surroundings, but I found that I could never feel entirely comfortable without a little bit of awareness to keep me alert.
And after all, I knew I was being hunted.
Chapter Four
I slept in the next day. I deserved it after working a long shift. It was late, and I only allowed myself a minute of staring at the ceiling before I rolled out of bed. Pulling open a drawer, I grabbed a sports bra, a wrinkled t-shirt, socks, and leggings. I slipped them on and wore my workout sneakers. I grabbed two daggers from the vanity table and went to the roof to start my morning training ritual.
Just because I’d had a long night didn't mean I could skip my daily workout.
An hour and a half later, I stepped into the shower. My entire body was drenched in sweat. I let the water run over my aching muscles as I thought about the coming day. I'd have to pass by Mateu later that evening, and Ibrahim usually needed twenty-four hours to get me information. I had some free time until then.
I hated having free time.
I stayed in the shower long enough for my fingers to pucker. I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. I left my wavy hair alone to air-dry. I padded into the living room and dropped onto the couch. It was time to see if I could find some other work to keep myself busy. I picked up my laptop from the coffee table, pulled up a website, and typed in my username, Shadow, to log in.
Being a bounty hunter was just my side job. It paid peanuts compared to my main work.
The website had pages of job opportunities. A lot of the headlines begged for the Supernatural Shadow to take on the offers. I suspected many of these were set up by the Alliance. My mother's words came back to me: better paranoid than dead.
The website was a board for assassins and hitmen. It was how I acquired the bulk of my wealth.
I didn't find anything that was worth the risk. For me, taking on assassination jobs wasn't just about the money. I had managed to build quite the decent nest egg from previous jobs, and my monthly expenses weren't high. If I wanted to, I could retire today and still have enough to live on comfortably for the rest of my life. I had several high-profile assassinations to thank for that.
Despite what some people thought, I didn't kill for the money. I took jobs because of the challenges they presented. I enjoyed complicated assignments — but of course, only the high-paying ones, not ones with high risk and low return. I needed the job to be just enough to ensure my training was still sound.
My mother had trai
ned me to be the best at what I did — killing. Because of her paranoia, I had a childhood filled with dead bodies. She hated demons with a passion and trained me to go after them at every opportunity. Thanks to her training, I could spot a demon in a crowd immediately. Other than a shifter, no one was better at spotting a demon than me. But shifters had their noses to rely on. Once, after a demon bounty, I had asked a shifter what demons smelled like, and he had replied, "Like you, except with less cloves," and laughed heartily.
That's how I discovered that demons smelled like brimstone.
I used that knowledge by mixing some of my clothes in my roommate’s closet. I wondered from time to time what my mother would think of me living with a half-demon. I was pretty sure she would be upset, but I knew she would be impressed by my ruse. When I wore clothing I’d stored in my roommate’s closet, any shifter that attempted to track me when I was on the job would be thrown off by the double scent of cloves and brimstone. I knew I had been successful when I asked that same shifter later what I smelled like, and he confirmed it was cloves and brimstone.
“Fire and brimstone,” I cursed under my breath. I shut down my laptop, not having found anything worthwhile. I picked up my phone. A message was waiting for me from my roommate, Noor.
Lunch?
Sure. Miguel's? I wrote back.
