Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
About the Author
ONE
Nick Braden took a seat in the small, comfortable office. He looked around at the paintings on the wall, marveling at the use of color and form. Whomever held the office clearly had a taste for the more expensive things; he recognized several of the paintings belonging to the late Richard Strike, a renowned painter who made his fortune in abstract art.
There was a bottle of expensive whiskey on the desk he sat in front of, as well as several glasses. He recognized the brand as being one they served at Afterlife. He'd been bartending there for several months and had found that it was a whiskey enjoyed by the more wealthy patrons.
Bartending had brought to life the differences in people he hadn't noticed before. He could now tell when someone was wealthy by the way their shoes looked, and he could tell who was poor by the brand of beer they chose. He got to see people at their best, dressed up and ready for a night on the town, and people at their worst, dressed to kill but knocking back shot after shot to try to erase whatever problem was on their mind.
He thought about a man he'd met there recently. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a huge belly. He'd sat at the bar, listening to the music and drinking like a fish. There was a dress code at the Afterlife, and he had made it past security, but Nick still wasn't sure why he was there. He didn't seem to enjoy people watching, he wasn't into dancing, and he often complained about the noise. Still, every Thursday night, he'd be there, drinking tequila as though it were water and occasionally chasing it with a cheap beer. He never made a fuss, never caused any trouble, yet he stood out in Nick's mind.
Before he could think more about this man, and what he represented to Nick, the door to the office opened, and a man stepped inside. He was like no man that Nick had ever seen before: he had stark white hair and a hairless face, dressed in a pinstripe suit. There was something about him that reminded Nick of taking a large gulp of ice water and the immediate brain freeze that came after. He nodded to Nick and then went around to sit behind his desk.
"So," the man said, "you are my three o'clock."
"Yes."
"Nicholas Braden," the man said. "You are a bartender at Afterlife. You grew up with your mother and have no siblings. You graduated high school, but dropped out of community college when the math classes proved to difficult. You had a steady girlfriend until your senior year, and then you abruptly broke up with her. No relationships since."
"How do you know all of that?" Nick asked. He was starting to feel uneasy about this visit. Maybe he'd made a mistake seeking out this man.
"I make it my business to know things about my clients," the man said. "Now, let me introduce myself properly. My name is Akain, and I believe you know what I deal in."
"You deal in deals," Nick said.
Akain bowed his head. "That is correct. People come to me with their problems, and I come up with a solution. In return, they do a little favor for me. Tell me, Nicky, what's brought you here?"
Nick stiffened at the nickname. He'd been Nicky all through his high school years, and it wasn't a name he'd chosen for himself. He clearly remembered the captain of the football team calling him that in front of all the cheerleaders and his girlfriend, Penny. The name had a lot of history behind it; years of getting bullied, years of never feeling like he was good enough.
"You don't like that much, do you?" Akain asked.
"No," Nick admitted.
"But, Nicky," Akain said, a glimmer of a laugh in his voice. "Don't you know? If something hurts you, it can be used against you. Better to accept and embrace what others say. Make it yours. Then it can't own you. You don't want it to own you, do you?"
Nick shook his head.
"Then tell me what you are doing here."
"There's a girl," Nick said. Akain began laughing. He clasped his hands in front of him, the laughter bellowing out like an obscene burp. Nick squirmed, uncomfortable and distraught. Part of him wished he'd never come. When his co-worker had told him about Akain, it seemed like the end of his problems. Now, though, he wasn't so sure.
Eventually, Akain's laughter tapered off, and he leaned forward. "Excuse me, Nicky, that was quite rude. Of course, it's about a girl. It's always about a girl. That's what our gender does best: we place women on pedestals and then we're surprised when we can never measure up. But don't let me stop you! No! Tell me about this girl! She must be special..."
"She is," Nick said. "She's beautiful, she's sweet, and she's intelligent. I've never met someone like her. I want her, but she doesn't even notice me. She doesn't seem to realize I even exist."
"I bet you get that a lot," Akain said. "Don't you?"
Nick felt his face flood with color. "Sometimes," he admitted. "Maybe I'm just not confident enough, or something. I don't know. But all the girls I've liked haven't given me the time of day, and I'm getting sick of it. Can you help me?"
Akain bowed his head. "Of course I can. This is one of my specialties. True loves finding each other. What's her name?"
"Chloe McAllister."
Akain's eyebrows shot up. "The fairy?"
"What?"
"Oh, you don't know," Akain said. He sounded amused again, as though he might start laughing at any moment. "Poor Nicky, always the last to get the important information. The girl you love, she's a fairy."
"Fairies are real? You expect me to believe that?"
"Do you believe in me and what I can do?" Akain asked.
Nick nodded.
"Then it's not such a far stretch to believe in the other things, is it? The things that haunt our dreams, and plague our waking thoughts? The things we pretend we don't notice, the things we force ourselves to ignore?" Akain grinned. "Tell me, have you ever noticed something strange about her? Something that separates her from other girls?"
"I always thought she was special," Nick said, his mind spinning. "I knew there was something about her... wait, can you work on fairies?"
Akain nodded. "Yes. My magic has no limits. I'm sure you've seen her with others, though, isn't that right?"
Nick nodded. "The other owners of Afterlife. Alec Morodan, Sarah Carter, and Conner Kingsley. Oh, and the two new ones, Harper Hawthorne and Brittney Conley. Wait, are they all fairies?"
"No, no, no, Nicky, not at all," Akain said. "They're a team of supernatural beings. A team that has plagued me since my first day here in this city... they've killed my men, they've hunted me relentlessly, and they've threatened to expose the underworld of Las Vegas. I need them gone."
"What?"
"That is my deal," Akain said. "I will make Chloe fall in love with you. She will never want another. You will be the only thing on her mind. In return, you will figure out a way to kill them. All of them but Chloe."
"I'm not a murderer!"
"They are not good people," Akain said. "Besides, some part of you likes the idea, doesn't it? To take out the elite? The people who've made your life hell since you started grade school? The popular kids? Who is more popular than the owners of a renowned nightclub?"
Nick wanted to argue, but he couldn't. His mouth felt suddenly very dry. It was true, he realized. Part of him did like the idea. The Afterlife team had hired him, but they'd ignored him consistently. They gave him a paycheck, but never the time of day. They'd never asked how he enjoyed
working there, they never asked how his day was. He was just a lowly employee, while they were the queens and kings behind the scenes.
"Sarah is a shape-shifter," Akain said. "You'll need to be especially careful of her. Then there's Conner. He's an incubus. He can't seduce you, but he is a demon, which makes him extremely strong. But the one you want to focus on is their leader, Alec. He's a vampire."
"A vampire? Are you serious?"
"Haven't you noticed that about him?" Akain asked. Suddenly, Nick could imagine it. He realized that some dim part of him must have always known. Alec was always out at night and he slept all day. He was tall, pale, and handsome. Sometimes Nick could swear he saw his eyes flash all black.
He bowed his head. "I suppose I have. Still... you want me to kill them?"
"Think of it as payback for all those mistreated years you lived through," Akain said. "Besides you'll be doing the city a service. Do you really want them running around killing people?"
"No," Nick said.
"You'll be a hero," Akain said. "And you'll have Chloe."
"So I'll be kinda like Van Helsing?"
Akain stared at him.
"You know... the vampire hunter?"
"I know who he is," Akain said. "I suppose you will be. So, do we have a deal?"
"What happens if I can't kill them?" Nick asked.
"Then your soul is forfeit to me," Akain said. When he saw Nick's expression, he began laughing again. This time, he laughed until tears formed in his eyes. "Oh, Nicky."
"My soul?"
"You'll have Chloe," Akain said. "But your soul will belong to me. Do we have a deal or not?"
Nick thought about it for a moment. He knew he was wagering a lot, but Akain had promised him a great deal: revenge upon the elite and the woman of his dreams. Chloe would be his, forever. He'd never have to worry about her ignoring him, or forgetting about him again.
"Yes," he said. "You have a deal."
TWO
Conner grinned over at Chloe. "You got another one!"
Chloe groaned while the others at the table laughed. "Just what I need," she said, "some high school boy drooling over me. I get enough of that from you, Conner."
"I don't drool," Conner said. "I salivate. There's a difference, you know."
"Sure."
"Besides, he's not a high schooler," Conner said. "He obviously comes to Afterlife frequently. Otherwise, how would he sneak these delicious little letters in?" He cleared his throat, and smoothed out a paper he was holding. "Dearest Chloe," he began. "When I see you, my heart skips a beat. From the moment I met you, I've known that we belong--'"
"--Enough," Chloe said, her face turning a bright red. She leaned over and snatched the paper out of Conner's hand. She crumpled it in a ball and threw it at the waste can. It bounced off and landed on the floor. "Even if he's not a high schooler, he's acting like one. Do you really think I'm interested in some juvenile child unable to approach me himself?"
Sarah grinned at her. "I think it's kind of sweet. You know, romance is underrated these days."
"It's not exactly romance to creepily send me love letters," Chloe said. "It's weird, that's what it is. I don't want to think of someone out there obsessing over me. He thinks we're meant to be together and there's a good chance that I've never even spoken to the guy. I mean, I would remember someone stuttering and blushing around me."
Harper laughed. "Maybe he's not a stutterer. Maybe he's more confident in person. Had you considered that? Had you considered that maybe you even know this guy? Maybe it's Alec. Alec, are you sending Chloe love letters again? I thought we talked about this."
She glanced over at Alec. He gave her a fleeting grin. "I just can't control myself, I guess!"
Brittney stretched out her legs, propping them up at the table. She ignored the glare that both Conner and Alec shot her. "Well personally I'm on Chloe's side. You never know what this kind of guy will do. I mean, first step, writing love letters and slipping them under the door. Next thing you know, he'll be stalking her house, and leaving breathy calls on her voicemail."
Everyone laughed again, except Chloe. She didn't seem at all amused by the situation.
"Okay," Alec said. "I didn't call you all here to talk about Chloe's secret admirer. As fun as it is to poke at her, I think we should buckle down and get to work."
Harper stared at Alec. In the couple of weeks it had been since his near brush with death at the hands of a ghost, his attitude had changed drastically. He'd gone from being mopey and inconsolable to laughing and joking with the rest of the team again. She wasn't complaining; she much preferred the happy Alec to the brooding one, but she was still astonished by the change. She didn't know what had brought it about.
"Alright," Chloe said. She turned to the large screen in the middle of the room and picked up a remote from the table. She pulled up images of two men that Harper and Brittney knew. They were regular human loan sharks who'd been after Brittney's brother. When Sarah had turned into a fury, she'd killed them.
"We've got George Ivanov and Michael Petrov. Two known loan sharks who were also in the business of transporting cocaine and heroin across state lines. They were also in the arms business. Very bad men. That's not including the fact that they were working with vampires and other demons in an attempt to control the underworld of Vegas."
Harper glanced at Sarah and saw that she was white-faced. Ever since she'd come to her senses and realized what she'd done, she'd regretted it. The men were bad, yes, but they had a policy about killing humans. They didn't do it, no matter how bad they were. It was too risky to their personal lives. She felt her heart go out to the woman; she knew Sarah hadn't been herself when she killed them. Yet, Harper knew she blamed herself.
"The police know about Peter and the men," Brittney said. "They don't know the extent of it, of course. They believe it was a home invasion gone wrong. They never came forward to contradict his report. Unfortunately, that puts Peter in the cross hairs, and I don't like that."
"You and Harper will be in charge of sorting it out with the police," Alec said. "Go in as FBI agents and make sure they aren't looking to pin this on your brother."
"What are we going to do when they realize we're not real FBI?" Brittney asked. "I mean, sooner or later, they're going to call our imaginary supervisor and confirm that we're impersonating the police. Then we'll be thrown in jail, and we can't do anything from there."
Conner shook his head. "I took care of that," he said. "As of now, we're all FBI members."
"How?" Alec asked.
"I went and talked to the man in charge," Conner said with a slight grin.
"When you say talked..." Harper trailed off.
"I mean that I talked, Harper," Conner said. "I went in to him, I told him what we were and what we do, and I told him that he has a choice. He can help us keep Vegas from being overrun by demons, or he could have me arrested. He chose the first one."
Harper turned to Brittney. "Now you'll be able to tell your parents you have a real job," she joked.
The last time they'd seen Brittney's parents, they'd both received a lecture about how they were wasting their lives at Afterlife and how they would regret their decisions to work as a waitress and bartender once they got a little older. Of course, her parents didn't know exactly what it was that Afterlife did. If they knew, they probably still wouldn't approve. Not only was their daughter risking her life every day, then there was Peter and his problem with gambling.
"Not a chance," Brittney said. "Then they'd start asking questions about where I trained, and things like that. Questions that I can't give answers to. No, it's better that they believe I'm a simple waitress. Peter will keep our secret. He doesn't have a choice."
"A simple waitress who kicks demon ass," Chloe chimed in.
"Not to mention the asses of loan sharks," Harper added.
Sarah winced, threading her hands on top of the table until her knuckles were almost white. "Maybe I should turn myself in," she s
aid. "I did kill them after all."
"You weren't in your right state of mind," Alec said sharply. "And besides, what would you tell them about how you snapped their necks? That you were a demonic angel out protecting the innocent and hassling the guilty? No. They deserved what they got, and you shouldn't feel bad about it. If you hadn't interfered, there's a good chance they would have killed Harper and Brittney."
"Thank you," Sarah said, though she still didn't sound completely convinced.
"There is something," Conner said slowly. "I've been meaning to bring it up, and I suppose this is a good time. When I talked to Stephen Eklund -- our supervisor at the FBI -- he agreed with me to let us help out. But I guess there's another thing. He'll do it on one condition. He wants us to do a job for him."
"What?" Alec asked. "What kind of job?"
"Apparently there's been a rare painting stolen from one of the city's museums," Conner said. "A painting that's worth millions of dollars. He wants us to find out who took it, and get it back."
"We're not treasure hunters," Chloe said.
"Yes, but there's a good chance whoever took it is supernatural," Conner said.
"Why do you think that?"
"Because none of the alarms were tripped," Conner said. "The door was locked from the inside of the vault. There's nothing on the security cameras. It just poof, vanished. It's either a really good thief or someone who doesn't need to worry about getting caught. One of us, for example."
Harper sighed. "What's the big deal about the painting, though? I mean, the museum is insured, right?"
Conner shrugged. "He just told me that valuable piece of art had been stolen and we needed to find it and bring it home, and if we did that, he'd back our stories as FBI agents."
The team all groaned.
"I thought we'd get a bigger break before another case," Chloe said.
"Well, we won't get one," Conner said.
Sarah shrugged. "It'll give us something to do." Harper glanced at her, knowing what Sarah meant was that it would give them something to take their minds off their current problems with the law. It would also take her mind off the fact that she killed two men.
Kinda Like Van Helsing (Afterlife Book 4) Page 1
