by Karen Chance
“Delilah’s a tomboy and you know it,” I said, laughing. “Those dresses will last a couple of days and then you’ll never see them again. But yeah, I’ll add that to my to-do list.”
Father put down his sword and leaned back in his chair, crossing his right leg across his left. He was a handsome man, looking barely older than the three of us. Full-blooded Fae, he would age far slower than we until we drank the nectar of life. But that wouldn’t be for some time yet. We were forbidden to touch it for now.
It was easy to see why Mother had followed him home from Earthside. She’d fallen for him before he ever kissed her, before he told her he loved her, and they’d been devoted to each other, right until the end.
“Camille, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Sephreh looked uncomfortable. “Your mother provided for you over Earthside. You have means there, should you ever need it. But here…I’ve put aside what I can for the three of you, but it isn’t much.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not sick, are you?” I slid down to his feet and rested my head against his knee, stabbed by a sudden fear. We couldn’t lose both of them.
He shook his head and patted my hair. “No, I haven’t taken ill. I’m talking about the fact that, by your age, girls normally start thinking about marriage and everything that comes with it—security, a title, convenience…I’m just not sure…”
“How well we’ll fare in that department?” As I spoke, he grimaced and I knew what was bugging him. “You’re afraid no one will marry us because we’re half-breeds?”
He jumped up, grabbed my shoulders, and lifted me to my feet. Tipping my chin up, he stared at me, his eyes flashing. “Never call yourself that. Never, ever demean yourself. You are half-human. Your mother was human and she was the most wonderful woman in the world. In either world. You will not be ashamed of your heritage. I’m not ashamed of you or your sisters. I’m proud of the three of you, and I know you do your best to make me proud. Do you understand?”
Shaken, I nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…what I meant was—if someone can’t handle our lineage, then they can go fuck themselves. None of us will ever marry a bigot. Besides, I’m never getting married. I like my freedom too much.” I grinned, trying to take the edge off his worry.
Father searched my eyes. After a moment, he laughed and kissed the top of my head. “You take after me, girl,” he said, returning to polishing his silver sword. “You prefer sex to breathing. Sometimes I wish you’d taken after your mother like Delilah. I think she’ll have an easier road to walk than you will. As for Menolly, it’s anybody’s guess.”
I was about to ask if he ever thought of remarrying but stopped myself. There were some places still too painful to tread.
2
THE next day, Menolly, Delilah, and I headed out for work together. Delilah was a few years younger than I, and her waist-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tall—six foot one—she was so athletic she put me to shame. A real tomboy, she was in and out of trees like I was in and out of the shops. She was also a werecat and had a yowl that could wake the dead, especially during the nights leading up to the full moon.
Menolly, on the other hand, barely grazed my nose. Petite with a cloud of coppery curls that traced halfway down her back, she was the perfect acrobat. Well, almost perfect. We all had problems thanks to our half-human heritage.
My magic fritzed out at the most unexpected of times, and sometimes backfired in painful and embarrassing ways. Menolly could balance on her toes on a tightwire, but one short circuit and she’d go tumbling down the front steps. And Delilah shifted into tabby cat form, but she couldn’t always control when she made the transformation.
We weren’t the best employees the Y’Elestrial Intelligence Agency had, but they couldn’t say we weren’t loyal, or enthusiastic. Our father was a captain in the Guard Des’Estar. We’d joined the YIA to make him proud.
The YIA headquarters were in the palace. A monolithic tribute to overkill, the palace made me cringe. The architecture was beautiful, but thanks to the tastes of our queen, the whole effect came off as tacky.
Minarets jutted into the sky, their spires flying the flags of Y’Elestrial and Queen Lethesanar. Five flights of steps led up to the massive doors guarded by men strong enough to squash a goblin’s head with their bare hands. Paired with wizards, they kept an eye out for magical intruders.
We stopped at the doors to show our credentials, then hurried through the doors toward the wing reserved for the agency. Clerks and scribes scurried every which way, their arms filled with paperwork and scrolls and books. Every now and then another agent would rush by, waving on the fly. We crowded into the briefing room to pick up our notes and assignments for the day.
Menolly grimaced as she was handed a single sheet of paper. “I knew it. Damn it, I wish they’d get off their butts and give me some help.” She glanced around, making sure nobody was within earshot.
“Why bother whispering?” I snorted. “We’re being eavesdropped on anyway. There are plenty of spies around and I have no doubt our supervisors can hear everything we say. Today’s whine is tomorrow’s whipping stick.” I glanced at my own assignment sheet. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Delilah asked.
“My supervisor wants to see me. Again.” I crumpled the paper.
Menolly shook her head. “Better that than my day. They’ve got me scheduled to sneak directly into the heart of the Elwing Blood Clan’s nest. I’ve been putting it off, hoping they’ll give me some backup. The damned job’s just too dangerous to tackle alone. I think I can wrangle another couple weeks of research but after that…I’ll have to either cave or quit.”
“Maybe they think you’re the best choice for the job,” Delilah said, ever the optimist.
“Don’t bet on it,” I muttered. “I get the feeling they’re deliberately trying to trip us up. You know, force us to screw up so badly they can fire us. That way, we couldn’t lodge a complaint.”
“You really think they’re trying to get rid of us?” Delilah asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe. I do know that the assignment they’ve given me sucks. I’m supposed to find Roche, and all their leads are bogus. If I don’t find him soon, they’ll chalk up another failure on my record and absolve themselves of the problem.”
“You think they might be looking the other way since he’s a member of the Guard? Mother used to call it the good ol’ boy system.” Menolly was even more cynical than I was.
“I have no idea,” I said, stopping as we turned down the hall leading toward the Special Investigations Unit. “Look—what’s that?”
An unused wing of the unit was in the process of being furnished, and the movers were carrying in desks and chairs and an interesting supply of magical instruments. The placard on the wall next to the main office door read OIA.
“What the hell is the OIA?” I asked.
“I dunno,” Menolly said, brushing her hair back behind her ears. “All I know is that I didn’t get enough to eat at breakfast and as soon as we leave here, I’m heading down to the Naori Clipper to snag myself a bowl of chowder and a loaf of bread.”
I came to my stop and blew a kiss to my sisters. “Be good. I’ll see you for dinner. If you get home before I do, tell Cook to start roasting the chickens.” They waved as I opened the door and slipped inside Lathe’s office.
My supervisor was younger than me, and he was on a continual tear because I refused to fuck him. Even though he was cute, work and sex just weren’t a great combo, and besides that, I’d heard about his peculiar habits. I enjoyed kink but I didn’t enjoy pain and humiliation. Apparently, he was adept at both. So I danced around his advances and he kept giving me shit jobs. One of these days, I’d take it over his head, but that would cause a firestorm I just didn’t feel like weathering at this point.
“What the hell’s going on?” I said, marching into his office. He was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the walnut desk.
His clothing was meticulous, as usual. He narrowed his eyes and slowly lowered his feet, motioning for me to sit opposite him.
“You find Roche yet?” He was mocking me. He knew I hadn’t, and he knew that I wouldn’t be able to without some legitimate help.
“Roche still has friends in the Guard Des’Estar, friends who wouldn’t mind helping him even with the crimes he’s committed. For all I know, you’re in on this sham of an investigation.” I squinted, wondering how far I could push his buttons before he freaked. Not that I really cared, but I didn’t want to disappoint Father by getting myself fired.
Lathe sauntered around the desk, closing the door to the hall. He stood behind my chair and I felt a hand on my shoulder, his fingers gently massaging beneath the straps of my bustier.
“Life could be so much simpler if you’d just learn to compromise,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck. I tried to shake him away but he held my shoulders tightly, squeezing so hard it hurt. “You could go a long ways in the agency, and I’d be a good ally to have.”
“Uh-huh…tell me another one. And my heritage isn’t going to make any difference, as long as I fuck your brains out, right?”
“Little girl, you’ve got a lot to learn,” he said, kissing my ear. “I won’t approve any transfer, promotion, or anything unless you learn to cooperate. And by cooperate, I mean suck my cock. Got it?”
I stared at the floor, cheeks flaming. I loved sex, but this was force coercion. I refused to be pushed. And regardless, I didn’t mix business and pleasure. Father raised us to take pride in our work and do our best. He didn’t raise us to whore ourselves for a promotion.
Shaking off Lathe’s hand, I stood and slowly turned to face him.
“I have an idea.” I slowly jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “Why don’t you go buy a whore down in the Dives? I’m sure you can find someone willing to let you fuck her up the ass or beat her black and blue if you pay her enough. But it’s not going to be me.”
“You’ve just sealed your fate, lovely,” he said, his eyes flashing. For a moment I thought he was going to fire me, or strike me down—he was an accomplished mage—but instead he returned to his seat.
“Either you find Roche in a week, or I’ll make an example of you in front of the whole agency. You’ll be so embarrassed you won’t be able to hold your head up in public after I’m done with you.”
I planted my hands on his desk. “I’ll find Roche, all right. But make no mistake—I’m not doing it because I’m afraid of you. I’ll drag him in because he’s a pervert and a murderer.” And then, because I was my mother’s daughter as well as my father’s, I added, “So take your short, scrawny dick and get it the fuck out of my face.”
As I slammed out of his door, I knew I’d just made one of the worst enemies of my life.
AS I headed out of the building, I made my way toward the Collequia. I needed help, and I knew where to get it. Jahn could scare up anyone a girl needed, including spies, wizards, and seers. Until now, I’d been avoiding asking for outside help because of the agency’s privacy policies, but fuck it. Lathe had pushed me too far.
Jahn was behind the bar, dividing packets of opium and kysa—the poor man’s version of the drug. He glanced up as I entered.
“You’re early, girl. Something wrong?”
“My prick of a boss is what’s wrong. You have anything to eat back there?” It was too early for a drink, and my stomach was rumbling.
“Nut bread and cheese okay?”
I nodded and he pulled out a wooden tray that held a loaf of nut bread and a round of cheese.
He tossed me a knife. “Help yourself. I was going to eat that for lunch but I’ll pick up something else.”
I sliced into the fragrant bread, inhaling deeply as the scent of hazelnuts rose in a wisp of steam. The cheese was soft as I sliced into it and spread it on the bread. As I took a bite, the sweetness of the nut meal drizzled down my throat.
“Good.” I licked my fingers. “Who made this? Your wife?”
Jahn shook his head. “No, she’s been living with her lover the past moon cycle. I don’t know when—or if—she’s coming back. I think she prefers dandies. He’s a tailor. I ever tell you that?”
A tailor? I couldn’t see any woman leaving Jahn for a tailor, but then again, tailors knew how to use their hands so maybe she’d been missing out on something from the club owner’s calloused hands.
“I can give you the recipe if you like,” he added.
“Cook will appreciate that,” I said, licking my fingers. “I need your help.”
He glanced up, pushing the drugs aside. “What’s going on?”
“I need to find somebody. And I need to find him as soon as possible. He’s dangerous. He was a member of the Guard till he got kicked out, and rumor has it he’s been hanging out here.” I hesitated, then added, “My job’s on the line. If I don’t find this creep, my boss will humiliate me unless I fuck him to shut him up. And that would be a far worse punishment.”
Jahn grunted and gave me a nod. “What’s the guy’s name and what did he do?”
“Roche. Roche ob Vanu. He was a member of the Des’Estar until he murdered his wife, his brother, and a few other innocents along the way. He’s gone on a ram-page. Raped five women so far, and murdered four of them. We know it’s him because his magical signature is all over the case.” I frowned, then added, “Do you have a bowl of water?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Jahn slipped into a back room and returned with a silver bowl.
I glanced around the bar. At this time of morning, it was almost empty. I pulled the bowl to me and slowly breathed on the water. The energy of the Moon Mother coiled within me as I coaxed it awake, wending its way up my spine. A river of molten silver, it spread through the cells of my body, circling the spiraling tattoo on my shoulder blade. I slowly exhaled and a sparkling mist covered the water in the bowl, settling over the top of it like a thick fog on the lake.
Jahn gave a little gasp, but said nothing.
I glanced up at him, then back at the bowl and lowered my hand toward the mist, whispering softly. “Mist of the mountain, mist of the moon, show me the face of the one whom I seek. Moon Mother, grant me the power.”
And then, the mist parted, rolling to the sides of the bowl, and there—in the water, was the face of the man I was hunting. Roche. He looked harsh, with a jagged scar over one eye that gave him a roguish look.
“Now show us his true face,” I whispered, and waved my hand again. And the face in the water shifted, taking on a cruel, vindictive leer as his inner nature rose to the surface.
Jahn took a quick step back. “He’s been in here, all right. I know that face, but I had no idea he was a member of the Guard Des’Estar. He’s a bad one.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Three nights ago. He paid for a whore—the youngest we have, but she wasn’t young enough for him and I had to stop him from beating her.” Jahn grimaced, a look of distaste on his face. “I won’t hire women who are under the age of consent.”
“You’re a good man, Jahn. And you haven’t seen him since?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been back. I spend most of my time behind the bar, not waiting tables, you know.” He stared at the face still lingering in the water. “Next time I see him, I’ll get word to you as soon as I can. You say he’s a murderer?”
“Rape, murder, torture. A lot of things you don’t want to know about,” I said. “I wish I could cast a spell of Finding, but my magic doesn’t always work right. I’m sure you’ve heard about that.”
“Yes, darlin’, I’ve heard,” Jahn said. He stopped suddenly, staring at the door. I heard it open as someone came in. “Damn it, what’s he doing back here?”
I knew who it was. Without even seeing his face, his energy swirled in ahead of him like a whirlwind. The golden man. The man with jet skin and silver hair. The Svartan. And then, without a sound, he was standing next to me, staring at t
he scrying bowl. He looked from it, to me, then back to it.
“Hunting?” he asked, his voice lazy.
I slowly turned my head to lock his gaze. “What business is it of yours?”
“I’ve seen your prey. Last night, as it so happens.” He slid onto the bar stool and casually snagged a handful of nuts from the bowl on the counter.
“Where?” I clenched my fists on the counter. “What price do you want for the information?”
Jahn put his hand on mine. “Darlin’, don’t go doing business with his kind—”
“Excuse me, barkeep, but perhaps you’ll answer a question.” The Svartan’s voice was smooth.
“What is it?” Jahn glared at him.
“If you disapprove so much of me, why do you continue to accept my money?” The Svartan gave him a faint smile, both derisive and yet challenging.
Jahn’s eyes were cold but he turned away. “Camille, use your head. I know you’ve got one. You’re too smart for the likes of him.”
The Svartan slowly swiveled to face me. “I don’t need your money. But if you would accompany me to luncheon, I’d consider that acceptable payment.”
My father would have a fit, but I wanted the information and this man could tell me what I needed to know. And I wanted to know more about him. He was hot, he fascinated me, and we had some odd connection—I could feel it there, hanging between us, though I had no idea just how or why it had formed.
I swung off my bar stool and smoothed my skirt. “I don’t accept dinner invitations from nameless strangers.”
He smiled then, a smile to melt the coldest of ice statues. His teeth gleamed, sparkling white. “The name is Trillian.”
As he offered me his arm, I slowly placed my hand on his elbow and he escorted me out of the bar. Deep inside, I could feel a whisper saying I’d just sealed my fate.
