by Emma Savant
So much for disappearing.
“What tipped you off?” I sipped the drink again, more carefully this time.
“I know what a bad day looks like.” He held out a hand. “I’m Brendan.”
6
I didn’t shake the stranger’s hand. Instead, I stretched my legs out and rested my feet on the remaining chair, then gave him a withering stare. “Scarlett.”
My attitude didn’t seem to bother him, which was enough to keep me from chasing him off. I knew how to deal with random dudes who thought they deserved my attention, and I could scare this one off if he got to be too annoying. For now, though, I could use a distraction.
I surveyed him with all my years of Dagger training. He was taller than me, and well-built, with broad shoulders and arms that seemed like they were strung tight with muscle and exercise. His dark-umber hair was scruffy, like it hadn’t seen a brush in a while, and his tan skin had a warm glow that made me think he spent a lot of time in the sun. He had a single mole near his lip, long eyelashes, and lips that closed all the way when he finished talking instead of falling gently open like most people’s. What was more, he had alert posture, and his eyes were almost as focused on me as mine were on him. He rested casually in his chair and let me take him in.
“What are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?” I said. “You don’t have a job? Or are you still in high school?”
“I haven’t been in school for a while, and I work swing shifts.”
“Where do you work?”
“Airport,” he said. “Security.”
“You’re one of those guys who tries to feel me up every time I fly?” I said.
It hadn’t been every time I’d flown. And, to be fair, I’d forgotten to take that knife out of my sock before we’d gotten on the plane. But still, letting some random pat me down without elbowing him in the eye like I’d wanted to hadn’t warmed me to the TSA.
“Different kind of security,” Brendan said. “I keep an eye out for Glimmering contraband. I’m a magician, so I’m good at spotting when other people are trying to pull tricks.”
“Didn’t realize Glims worked at the airport like that.”
“Good,” he said. “My job’s easier if you don’t know I’m doing it.”
He sipped his drink and watched me over the top of the glass. He lowered it and raised his eyebrows.
“What, no more questions?”
“I have plenty,” I said. “I’ll ask them on my own time.”
I took the marble out of my pocket and rolled it around on the table. I figured he’d get bored and leave, but he just sat there, taking small sips and alternately watching me and the people on the dance floor.
It was kind of amazing that so many people were here on a weekday afternoon. But then, given the different schedules of all the vampires, elementals, and other magical beings in this city, it was even more amazing that I could have reached adulthood and still retained assumptions about what a normal schedule looked like.
“Where do you work?” he said finally. “Or are you still in high school?”
I snorted. I hadn’t attended a normal school for years. Like most of the others with mothers in the coven, I’d gone to elementary school and then been educated by the Daggers and a series of tutors. It was easier to homeschool us, Mom had told me. Less chance of a kid accidentally outing the whole organization to a teacher who didn’t understand why she kept showing up with bruises from training.
“I work for my grandmother,” I said. “Just got off.”
“What does your grandmother do?” he said. “She must be an awful boss to make you this mad.”
“She’s great,” I said. “It’s the rest of the world that could use a kick in the teeth.”
“She a dentist?”
“What?” I said.
“Kick in the teeth,” he said, gesturing at his.
“No,” I said, irritated. “She’s a fashion designer.”
Whatever he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it.
“Humdrum or Glimmering?”
“Both,” I said. “Mostly Glim. I work at Carnelian.”
He leaned back, tipping his chair onto two legs. “Your grandma is Carnelian Hunter?” he said, sounding impressed.
“You’ve heard of her?”
“Um, yeah,” he said, like I was an idiot. “She’s Carnelian Hunter.”
“Nelly,” I said. “Nobody calls her Carnelian. That’s the house.”
“And she’s your grandma?”
“We established that.”
He let the chair drop back down. “Sorry, that’s just really cool,” he said. “She’s a big Glimmering success story.”
I raised an eyebrow. I already knew this.
But he kept going. “She built that business from nothing when she was in her, what, fifties? And now she’s got this multi-million-dollar company and she’s dressing people like Dior Miller.”
Dior Miller was a popular Glimmering singer, and not the only one Grandma had dressed in recent years. “Miller’s nice,” I said. “I was at her fitting last year before some awards show.”
He shook his head, still surprised. “That’s badass. And you work for her?”
I just nodded, since we’d also established that.
“I want to start my own business someday,” he said. “I’m always listening to podcasts and reading interviews with people who have been successful. Your grandma is what I want to be.”
“What, an impeccably dressed woman with a latte addiction?”
His earnestness was obnoxious, given the mood I was in.
It was flattering, too. I’d gotten so used to the Daggers making offhand comments about the Stiletto’s day job that I sometimes forgot how impressive Grandma was in her own right, even without the responsibilities that came with leading the coven. It was nice to be reminded that people outside the family recognized her as the powerhouse she was.
“You’re really lucky,” he said.
“I’ll be luckier once I refill this drink,” I said, slamming my empty cup down on the table. I started to stand, but he held out a hand and beckoned me back down.
“I have something better than the kid stuff they’re serving back there,” he said. He tugged his jacket open. A flask was tucked into an inner pocket. “You want some?”
I shouldn’t, I knew that.
But I’d already done everything right today and had still gotten royally screwed over.
“Sure,” I said, pushing my glass toward him.
I’d never had alcohol before, except for the rare swallows of wine or mead I was allowed at rituals and special occasions. This was real liquor, and it burned on the way down and warmed me in a way the lemon and honey hadn’t been able to. I savored it even as the sharp fruity smell made my eyes water.
“What is this?” I said, swirling what remained around the cup.
“Peach vodka,” he said.
I gave him a skeptical look, and half of his mouth quirked in a grin that showed off a dimple. “Okay, from peaches of immortality.”
I set the glass down a little too quickly. “This is going to make me immortal?”
He laughed. “Not unless you’re a Chinese god,” he said. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s not from the real thing. Has a nice kick, though, plus I don’t get much of a hangover with this stuff.”
“Then sign me up,” I said. I kicked back another large swallow.
An hour later, we’d demolished most of the flask, and I was feeling noticeably happier. I wasn’t sure whether it was the drink or the company. Brendan was a good listener, and he didn’t seem scared by me, which was rare. My entire life, I’d been the kind of girl people called intimidating. Grandma always told me that anyone who couldn’t handle me wasn’t someone I needed, and I knew she was right, but it was nice to be having a conversation with a guy who didn’t make me feel like I had to walk on eggshells.
Not that I talked to a lot of guys anyway. I was surrounded by Dagge
rs.
“That’s the problem,” I said, leaning toward Brendan. “That’s, like, the whole problem with my life. I’m surrounded by these women, you know, because—because of the fashion house—and they all think I’m going to do great things. I’m Nelly’s granddaughter. I’m supposed to take over the—family business, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. His eyes had a sort of glassy look, probably from the alcohol, but he still kept them focused on me. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“And it’s not just the fashion house,” I said. “My mom, she’s like—” I cast around, trying to find a way to talk about the Daggers without actually bringing them up and compromising the coven. “She’s like a fighter,” I said. “She’s in security, like you, except she actually takes down criminals and stuff. Not a lot of people know that because she also works at the fashion house, so keep it to yourself. But, like, if I try to go take down a criminal?” I mimed something blowing up with my hands. “It all falls apart. It sucks.”
“Why are you trying to take down a criminal?” he said, slurring his words slightly.
“Because it’s, like, my job,” I said. “Or it’s supposed to be or something.”
“You’re supposed to be a fashion designer.”
“Yeah, and I’m supposed to take down criminals. It’s both. Everyone wants me to do both.”
“What do you want?”
That was the worst part of it, because I wanted both, too. I wanted them so much, and they felt so far away that I wanted to punch the table just to get some of the emotion out of my body. I balled my hand into a fist instead.
“I want to be the best,” I said. “I want to be the best at everything. Except no, because Sienna’s the best, and no one’s ever going to let me forget it.”
“Who’s Sienna?”
“Who cares?” I said.
My head spun. I pushed my glass away.
Brendan propped his elbows on the table. “What kind of criminals do you deal with?” he said.
“I don’t know, all kinds,” I said.
“Like drug dealers?”
“Sure,” I said. “Yeah. Why not.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you so curious anyway?”
He leaned forward and gazed past my shoulder. “Because part of the contraband I sniff out is Glim drugs, and that guy in the other corner is doing a deal.”
I snapped my head around. In a shadowy corner, a few guys around my age sat at tables. I couldn’t tell what they were—wizards, or sorcerers, maybe, or any other of the more human races.
One of them, a guy with dark hair that fell over his eyes, slipped something under the table. The other guy, who had the blond hair and meaty build of a Viking, took it and appeared to put it in his pocket. I narrowed my eyes at them.
“You going to do something about it?” I said.
Brendan shrugged. “I was thinking maybe you could,” he said. “Show your mom and Sienna what they’re dealing with.”
It took only a second to decide. I shoved my drink toward Brendan and stood, then stalked across the room toward my prey.
7
The guys doing the deal didn’t get wind of me until I was practically on top of them. The smaller, dark-haired one was the first to notice something was up. He didn’t say anything or even glance my way, but his shoulders tensed slightly and his hand twitched against his knee.
“Hey,” I said, like this was just a casual chat. I walked slowly behind the blond guy and ran a hand down his arm. He seemed startled, then looked me up and down.
He liked what he saw, which was good. It meant I could move my hand a little lower down, and then dart it into his loose pocket.
“Whoa!” he said. He leapt back and almost tipped over his chair.
He’d clearly thought I was trying to feel him up. Not that what he thought mattered. I had a small packet in my hand, filled with a soft gray powder that shimmered in the dim light of the club.
“This is interesting,” I said.
The room seemed to spin around me, but I’d been in enough knock-down drag-out sparring matches that I knew how to keep my balance even when the world felt sideways. It was a skill that transferred to being tipsy. I grabbed the back of the guy’s chair for support and clenched my hand around the packet before he managed to close his hand around my wrist.
He was strong, but I was better trained, and a witch on top of it. I took a deep breath and focused the energy where his hand was. He grimaced, then let go and shook his hand out.
“You burned me,” he said.
“Mmhm,” I said. I held the packet up to the light. “What’s this, fairy dust?”
Fairy dust wasn’t a restricted substance, although it probably should be the way some people downed it by the messy handful. This wasn’t the right color, though, and had the texture of powder rather than fine sugar or sand.
“What do you want?” the dark-haired guy said in a low voice. He waved me to lower my hand and keep it down, which, of course, I wasn’t in the mood to do.
I tucked the packet into one of the leather jacket’s inside pockets. “What is it?”
“Moon dust,” he said, cutting his eyes to the side.
A few people had started noticing us. The guy stood, grabbed my jacket, and yanked me down into a chair. I reared back and punched him in the face. The world was still spinning, and the punch wasn’t as solid as it should have been, but it was still enough to knock him back into his seat.
“What the hell, lady?” he said, holding his face.
The blond guy shifted in his seat and eyed the exit. He was ready to escape, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Neither of them were.
Across the room, Brendan watched me, interested.
No, not interested. Impressed. He leaned back in his chair and smirked.
He’d probably never seen anything like me before, I realized. I was a Dagger, and that meant that not only did I not pick on people my own size, I was equipped to pick on two people who were twice my size and walk away from it. We weren’t ordinary, and I knew from firsthand experience that watching a Dagger in action could be a transfixing thing. I winked at him and grabbed the blond guy by the back of his collar.
“You’re going to stay right here,” I said. “You’re both going to sit tight until someone shows up to deal with you, and if you’re real lucky, I’ll tell the nice officers that you came without a fight.”
“Yeah, except we didn’t,” the dark-haired guy muttered.
Fast as lightning, he raised a hand and shot a bolt of white light at me.
I dodged it. Someone in the club screamed.
“Wizard, then,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder—the bolt had hit the floor, and no one was injured—and then snapped back to face him. I raised my hand to defuse the next flash of light and caught it easily. The energy fizzled into nothing in my hand. I took a deep breath and drew on the fire inside me, then snapped my fingers. A wall of flames encircled us, separating us from everyone else at the club and trapping the drug dealers inside.
The dark-haired guy leapt for me, ignoring the fire. His fist flew at my face as his chair skittered into the flames behind him. The blond guy tried to stop him, but he elbowed his friend away and kept throwing punches and jabs at my face.
I dodged them all. I didn’t even have to think about it. I waited for the right moment, then pulled him into a headlock. He struggled and tried to fight me off with another bolt of energy, but I dodged and let it hit the ceiling. Plaster rained down on us.
I imagined bringing earth up through the floor. Its heavy, damp weight filled my arms and hands, and I pushed the energy into him as quickly as I could. A moment later, his body softened and collapsed.
He fell to the floor, face slack in a peaceful sleep.
The blond guy saw his moment and landed a punch right in my eye. I yelped and swept a leg under him. He fell. His arm passed through the flames on the way down, and his jacket caught fire.
I put a foot on his ches
t while he frantically tried to beat his sleeve against the floor beside us. Beyond the wall of flames, I heard shouting and sirens, but they didn’t matter. All that mattered was my heartbeat and the heat of the moment.
“You want to back off?” I said.
“Yes,” he said. The flames crept up his arm and toward his face, and he stretched away from them. “Yes, yes!”
I waited a moment to make sure he’d understood the gravity of his situation, then doused the flames with a wave of my hand. He clutched his sleeve, now slightly damp, and looked up at me with enormous eyes. He tried to scramble out from under my foot, but I wasn’t about to let him go anywhere. I might not be as big as some Viking wizard, but I knew how to direct my weight to get what I wanted.
“You’re going to stay right here until law enforcement arrives,” I said. “And then you and me are going to have a nice chat with the officer about your drug habits.”
Across the room, Brendan raised his hand and silently mimed clapping. I rolled my eyes at him.
The bouncer, I realized, had come upstairs and was now circling me. She was assessing me and ready to take me down if need be. I gave her a little wave.
“Everything’s under control,” I said with a smile.
She smiled back and gave me a sharp, pointed nod, and the world shrank to darkness in an instant.
8
My head throbbed. A clock was ticking loudly enough to make me flinch, and when I opened my eyes, I had to close them again immediately to block out all the light.
“She’s up,” someone called in a shrill, singsongy voice.
I groaned and rolled over on my side and tried to force myself into real consciousness.
I was lying on a stiff cot with a glaring orb light floating over my head. A black metal cuckoo clock on the wall high above me ticked loudly. The bird looked down at me with wide eyes. It tilted its head in a mechanical way, and the beak opened.
“She’s up,” the same shrill voice repeated.
I winced and slowly sat up.
I was in a cell. It wasn’t big, maybe five by five, and the bars and floor were all silver. I was a witch, so that didn’t matter to me, but I could only cringe at the thought of a werewolf or vampire being locked in here. The light was way too bright. I held up a hand to shield my eyes.
