by Ciara Graves
Sighing, I rubbed my forehead and shook my head. “Look, Rot, can we do this another time? Kind of busy tonight and kicking your ass in front of your friends—I mean, do you really want them to see that?”
“Overconfident bitch!” Rot yelled and threw himself at me.
He was taller than Rufus, but his fighting was worse, and extremely erratic. As he came at me, I stepped to the side and grabbed hold of his scruff. With a grunt, I swung him around and threw him into the three goblins to my right.
Rafael made a move to step in.
I held up my hand. “I got this.”
“I can help,” he insisted.
Rot was getting back up, wiping the blood from his mouth and had already spotted the demon.
“You… you’re with her?” Rot gnashed his teeth, let out a high-pitched shriek, then attacked.
I went to grab him, but the other three grabbed onto my back, tearing me away from Rafael.
They threw me into the nearest building.
“Kill them both!” Rot yelled.
Rafael growled ferociously nearby.
Not that I could see him.
I was too busy kicking off the other three goblins.
Swinging my fist, I knocked one’s teeth in and reached to my hip for my sword, but the other two grabbed my arm and wrenched it up behind my back.
Using my weight, I fell backward, taking them down with me. I kicked out, catching one in the face. The other I grabbed around the throat and tossed him across the street where he rolled into a few onlookers.
I barely got my balance back when a goblin wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly.
I gasped, cringing when my ribs threatened to break.
Then suddenly, the goblin was gone.
Sucking in air, I whirled around to take him out, only to find Rafael holding him up by his throat, shaking him. Then he threw him into the pile of the other unconscious bastards. With Rot at the bottom of the heap.
Rafael’s eyes dimmed, and the red vanished, along with a hint of the demon rage he’d let show. He tugged on his jacket. “You alright?”
My sides hurt like hell, and I’d be sporting more bruises. At least I didn’t get bit again. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thanks.”
Maybe he wasn’t so useless after all. After having to save him from the reapers, I’d wondered if he could take care of himself. Nice to see I was wrong.
“So, friends of yours?” he asked.
We walked away from the goblins before they got their second wind. And before the vampires who patrolled the Underground made it to the scene and gave us shit for beating them up. They weren’t exactly police, but they seemed to believe they controlled these streets seeing as they were technically in their territory.
“Sure. You could say that. His brother had a bounty on him.”
“What did he do? Steal someone’s dinner?” Rafael didn’t sound too convinced I took the goblin in for a good reason.
“Yeah. That dinner being someone’s kid.”
“What? How was he not on the Fed radar for that crime? All we had were rumors of disturbances.”
“There’s a lot you all seem to miss in your perfect ivory tower,” I muttered darkly.
“If it’s not reported or discovered by us—”
“This was reported,” I yelled as I poked him hard in the chest. “But nothing was done about it, which is why I do what I do. You act like I’m the bad guy when I’m going after the same assholes and murderers you are. I just do it in an unconventional way. So back off, demon, or you’ll see my bad side.”
“How many have you killed over the years to get what you wanted?” he shot back.
“Only those who tried to kill me first.”
“So you’ve broken laws. The ends justify the means. Is that it?”
“Something like that, yeah. You can judge me all you want, but not every crime committed can be rectified by the law. So I make a little money on the side from bringing in the bad guy. Get over it.”
“The laws are there for a reason.”
“Right. Because they help so many of our kind.” Standing on my toes to give me more height, I scoffed at him. “What do you do to help those who actually need it? Tell me. What good do you actually do?”
He snarled as he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the nearest lamppost. “More than you. I will always do more than any other Fed. I told you, you know nothing about me.”
“That I doubt.” I shoved him hard.
He staggered back.
I glared at him. “You’ll end up being just like all the rest in the end.”
I remembered what the Feds did after my parents were killed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A single Fed—a demon—had spoken up for my sake when they’d found me, half dead. But he was ignored, and I was ordered to be thrown into the system. That was when I’d made a run for it.
Flashes of my recurring nightmare filled my mind, and I stumbled away from Rafael, shaking my head as the scar on my face burned. I grimaced, holding my hand to it. Power surged through my veins, threatening to escape.
“Mercy?” Rafael asked, but I shoved away from him, dragging my unstable power back into me.
“If all you’re going to do is judge me, then just get out of here. I have work to do.”
I expected him to leave, but when I glanced over my shoulder, found him following along, face scrunched in curiosity and worry.
So close, I’d been so close to letting it all spill out, telling him what Gigi didn’t even know about me, about what I went through before I found her.
And why?
All because he pissed me off, judging me for working outside the law. His law.
I had no choice, though. It was either work with him or take my chances and run. If I couldn’t find a way to get control of myself around him, I’d be digging my own grave one way or another.
Power welled up inside me, much like a heartbeat, but it had no way to escape, so instead, it left my stomach aching and hands shaky.
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and cold seeped into my bones.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, not wanting Rafael to see, and trudged on faster.
The sooner we got even a small amount of info, the earlier I could head home and find another plan that did not involve the demon.
Chapter 9
Mercy
“No,” Bowen hissed, crossing his arms and blocking me from entering the Wailing Siren.
“Do we really have to do this?”
“You messed up the bar, so yeah we do.” His gaze flickered to Rafael, and he bristled. “Who’s the demon? Your bodyguard?”
“Ha. Since when do I need a bodyguard?”
“You’re not getting inside.”
“I’m not after anyone tonight,” I assured him. “I only need to talk to him.”
His eyes narrowed as I emphasized the last word, knowing he understood whom I referred to.
“And you expect me to believe you?”
“Bowen, don’t make me regret always being nice to you,” I said, my hand creeping toward my gun. “We can either have a pleasant evening, or you can go home with a broken fang.”
His eyes narrowed as his tongue reached up to his fangs. “If you start anything, I’ll throw you out on your ass myself. And don’t think I can’t do it.”
I rolled my eyes as I started to go past him.
He leaned closer and whispered, “Best watch your back. Rot’s stirring up the gobs.”
“Yeah. Already had a visit from the welcoming party.”
Bowen shook his head and brushed his lips right against my ear to ensure no one else heard him. “No, something else is going on down here. The gobs—I’ve never seen them like this.”
“Mercy?” Rafael asked. “Something wrong?”
Bowen gripped my arm, and a strange closeness overcame me. I was used to only one person caring for me, but why would he warn me if he didn’t care? It was an odd sensation.
Then he was whispering again. “Steer clear of the gob dens, no matter what anyone tells you. And the reapers.”
“Reapers?”
“They’ve been seen down here.”
“Shit,” I muttered, squeezing his hand back. “Thanks for the warning.”
He offered me a small smile and wink then went back to his bored look, and resumed his spot at the door.
Cautiously, I took one long look at the street, just in time to witness the gleaming yellow eyes of a goblin. Then they blinked out of sight.
Bowen had no reason to lie to me, but why warn me?
I walked into the bar and chose a stool at the counter.
“You and the vampire,” Rafael said as he sat down on my right, “you seem pretty close.”
“Sure. Guess you could say that.”
“How close?”
“Why? Jealous?” I asked with a wide grin, not even sure why I said it.
Rafael’s eyes narrowed, and he sniffed hard. “None of my business.”
“Damned straight.”
“Who are we here to see anyway?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” I said as the bartender meandered our way.
Shep, the bartender, was a werewolf with dark grey hair. He growled at the sight of me until I pulled a wad of bills from my pocket and slid them across the counter.
“He here or not?”
Shep slipped the bills in his pocket. “He’s in a shit mood. You sure you want to see him?”
“Need some answers on a mage. Who else do you suggest I talk to?”
“Who’s the demon?” Shep demanded.
“Friend. For the moment,” I told him. “You going to let me see him or not?”
Shep stepped closer to Rafael and sniffed. His eyes flared yellow.
I was perplexed. No way he could sniff out he was a Fed, right? Holding my breath, hands gripping the counter until my knuckles turned white, I waited for this night to go from bad to worse.
Then Shep was waving us off. “Don’t make me regret letting you back there tonight,” he snapped as we walked past. “Still cleaning gob blood off the floor!”
“Gob blood?” Rafael asked quietly.
“I might’ve gotten into a brawl here the other night.”
“And how bad was it?”
“Bad enough. Now come on. And whatever you do, do not look him in the eye, do not speak, and do not do anything stupid.”
Rafael gave me a look. “Who is this supe?”
Outside a door behind the bar, I paused, hand reaching out even as a voice inside my head screamed to run in the other direction.
“At one time he was the most feared being in the Underground. Hell, in the whole state, really. And now he’s one of the last of his kind. He’s a gryphon.”
“What? No. There’s none registered in Tennessee.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“And you’re his friend?”
“Oh, no,” I said as I finally grabbed hold of the doorknob. “He hates me.”
The door swung inward to reveal a short corridor leading to another door. Beyond that, whatever game was on blared out of the TV speakers. Though why he bothered to have it on was beyond me.
At the second door, I raised my hand to knock when the sound suddenly cut off and there was a loud thump.
“Don’t just stand there. I’m old, I could croak at any second. So just get your ass in here already.”
We walked into the back room to find an old man with bright white hair hanging loosely around his shoulders. His bathrobe was a vibrant green, and he had on house shoes with holes in the toes.
If anyone had told me this man was a gryphon, I would’ve said they were full of shit.
But he was.
The second we stepped inside, he sniffed the air, then leered at me.
“Mercy Temple. Such an unpleasant surprise.” He sniffed again. “And you brought a friend.”
“You know, I thought of being nice tonight. But now I’m not so sure.”
“You, nice? Ha! Girl, there isn’t a nice bone in your body.” His laugh sounded like pieces of paper rubbing together.
It made my skin crawl.
“You want something. So get to the point. What is it? And don’t you look at me, boy,” he snapped, jerking his head to the right and glaring at Rafael.
Rafael frowned. “He’s blind.”
“Blind. Not deaf,” the gryphon snarled.
“Wesley, play nice.” I dragged over the footstool and sat a few feet away from him.
Wesley might not be able to shift into a gryphon anymore, and he might be blind, but he always had a walking stick somewhere nearby. If you didn’t learn how to be fast, he’d whack you with it for pissing him off. I lost count of how many times I walked out of this place with black eyes and bruised knuckles from that freaking thing.
The only reason I did not hit back was the amount of information he managed to pick up somehow. And not merely past knowledge. This old bastard knew more about what was going on in the Underground than anyone else.
It was why Shep and the other werewolves looked after him. Why a lot of supes did. He was valuable. That and he was one of the last of his kind.
We might try to kill each other, but some part of us all experienced a strange pang of loss, to think one day our own race might be killed off. Just like those in the past. Just like the gryphons. Amongst other races.
I flexed my hands, doing my best not to linger on my secrets in front of Wesley. He wasn’t psychic, but there were times I wondered if he found a way to hear my thoughts anyway.
“What do you want?” Wesley asked sharply.
“Information on a mage.”
“Oh, yeah? Which one would that be?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, sniffing the air again.
A board creaked behind me, and his head shifted. “Stop moving around, demon. Or are you having fits?”
“I’m not,” Rafael snarled.
“Hmm. Demons. Always hated demons.”
“Wesley,” I said loudly. “Information. You got it or not?”
“Need a name, lass,” he muttered, more of his English accent coming out in his ire.
“Liam Manchester.”
Wesley sat back and went so still for a horrible second that I thought he up and died on me.
Then he took a deep rattling breath and shook his head. “Him. What are you doing around that bastard of a mage, Mercy? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“You know me. Always going after the fun ones,” I said lightly.
Wesley’s pale grey eyes darkened.
“Look, I don’t have a choice, alright? We have to catch him, but right now we’re short on intel. What do you know?”
“Telling you will only ensure you end up in danger far quicker than if I told you nothing.”
Furiously, I rubbed at my face. Usually getting information from him was not this difficult. He’d berate me, sure, yell at me a bit, then try to hit the crap out of me with that stick if I pushed too far. But never did he flat out refuse to tell me what I needed to hear.
That made two people today who were suddenly concerned about my safety, and I hadn’t the slightest idea why. But I was not leaving this bar without finding out all I could about Liam. Damian had only given me a week and time was ticking by extremely quickly. As were my chances of making it out of this mess without having Rafael and the Feds coming after me.
“Wes, please. Tell me what you want from me.”
“Nothing, lass, I want nothing from you.”
“Then why won’t you tell me? I need to find the bastard.” When Wes remained silent, I smacked my lips together a few times thinking, then figured honesty was best. “Do you at least know why a mage is running around with fangs? And not simply vamp fangs? Or why he’d be looking for donors?”
Wesley’s eyes darkened even more as his fingers dug into the arm of the raggedy couch. “I cannot speak it. Not here. Not out loud.”
&
nbsp; “What do you mean?”
His head twitched toward the door.
“Are you being watched?” I said in barely a whisper, knowing he’d hear me.
“Not here, and not in front of the demon.”
“I need to know,” Rafael argued. “I’m working with Mercy.”
“I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you,” Wesley snarled, standing up suddenly. The stick was in his hand, aimed right at Rafael’s face. “You will meet me two nights from now,” he said to me, voice strained as he dug in his pocket then slipped a business card into my hand. “Do not be late.”
The card disappeared into my pocket as I nodded. “Thank you, Wes.”
“Whatever, lass, just don’t say I didn’t warn you. What you’re getting into… you’re going to wish you got yourself out a long time ago.” He sank back into the rotted cushions and unmuted the football game. “Shitty call, ref,” he muttered, eyes not even focused on the screen.
He wouldn’t say more, so I motioned to Rafael, and we exited the room.
“I’m coming with you,” he said the second we were through the second door and into the main bar.
I glanced around to be sure Rot and a pack of goblins weren’t here for a second round, but there were none inside.
“Did you hear me?’
“Not happening. You heard him. He doesn’t trust you.”
“But he has information I need.”
“And I’ll be sure to relay it to you. Besides, I at least am holding up my end of the deal. What do you know about our mage that I don’t?” I asked, taking a seat at a corner table, back to the wall so I could keep an eye on the door.
Bowen was out there still, and I just knew he sensed me watching him, because he tilted his head, as if to acknowledge me, then went back to his duty.
“You swear on your name as a bounty hunter you’ll tell me exactly what Wesley tells you?”
I held up my right hand and grinned. “Swear it. Now, why are the Feds after my target?”
Rafael rapped his knuckles on the table, scowling at me. “He’s not the one we’re actually after,” he admitted quietly. “At least not entirely.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Feds are after bigger fish than a mage who likes to break the law now and again. Our belief is he’s working under someone else’s orders.”
