by Eva Chase
“Sure. Absolutely. The more the merrier.” Ruse chuckled, but he’d tensed at the implied criticism.
“Thorn. Snap.” Omen peered into the shadows next to me. Before he’d opened his mouth again, the other two shadowkind had emerged, so abruptly I found myself squeezed against the door to make room. Thorn could have used a whole back seat to himself.
Snap gave me an apologetic peck on the temple before turning to his boss with an eager gleam in his eyes. “How can I help?”
“I want the two of you patrolling the streets, making sure no one has followed us or takes too much interest in Betsy here. And since I’d like to keep this ‘merry’—Sorsha, you’re coming with Ruse and me. It may be useful to have a mortal around in this particular situation.”
I rubbed my ears in disbelief, but his impatient gesture and Snap’s proud beaming suggested I’d heard him correctly. “You’ll see how much she can help,” the devourer said. He pressed another kiss to my check before vanishing back into the shadows with Thorn.
“I’m sure I will,” Omen said without much enthusiasm, and shoved open his door.
Somehow I suspected Omen’s request was more about not trusting me alone in his car—as if I might shred the cushions like some kind of wild animal… or, well, like Pickle—than about him developing any respect for my talents. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. The sooner I proved those talents to him, the sooner he’d put a lid on his condescending comments.
“This mortal is a little… quirky,” Ruse said in a low voice as we walked over to the house he’d pointed out as the hacker’s. “And I picked up on a certain amount of defensiveness about that. So, let me recommend that you keep any opinions about her clothing choices and décor to yourselves.”
He’d called ahead so the woman would be expecting him. As he knocked on the back entrance that was down a flight of stairs from the backyard patio, I braced myself not to react to head-to-toe goth-gear, a raver’s rainbow hair and glitter, or possibly a furry costume. It takes all sorts, after all.
I still wasn’t prepared.
“Into the Cavern! Quickly!” hissed the figure who opened the door. A figure in full purple latex bodysuit complete with a yellow blaze of lightning on the chest, a glinting black utility belt, matching black vinyl platform boots, and a black cape she whirled with a dramatic swish.
Our hacker apparently saw herself as Superhero of the Cybernet, with all the trappings. I managed to keep my expression blasé as we stepped into her apartment, but it was a near thing.
She’d modeled the “Cavern” after the Bat Cave: a huge array of computer screens at one end, glass cases holding a couple of costume changes and assorted comic-book-esque weaponry next to it, slate-gray paint from concrete floor to ceiling, and light streaming in hazy beams from a circle of pot lights mounted overhead. A moped decked out with metallic black plating leaned against the wall by the entrance. Hoo, boy.
I brushed against the moped as we squeezed into the small space between all her equipment, and something flicked against my arm with a scaly swipe. I clamped my mouth shut before I could yelp in surprise, but Ms. Super Hacker here must have noticed.
“Don’t mind Freddie,” she said briskly, and plopped into a massive leather chair with an arched back that looked more suited to a super villain than a hero. I squinted at the moped and made out a hunched form with scales that blended into the black seat and the gray walls.
She had a pet chameleon. Named Freddie. Right. I should have brought Pickle along for a playdate.
The hacker chugged from an energy drink sitting on the workspace in front of her and waggled her fingers over one of her three keyboards. This one had a green glow around the elevated keys. She glanced up at Ruse with a grin. “What can I do for you tonight?”
The incubus obviously didn’t need to do any more charming. He propped himself in front of the farthest screen and gave her a languidly warm smile in return. “It might be a little tricky, but I’m sure you’re up to the task. We can’t have anyone noticing what you were digging into, though. Our lives could be at stake.”
The woman’s expression turned more solemn. She nodded briskly. “You can count on me. I’d give my own life before I let those I fight for come to harm.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ruse said wryly. “We have reason to believe there are people in this city looking to purchase supernatural beings of particular power, as well as hiring mercenaries of some sort for security details. We’d also like to check for any mentions of activity around a construction site last night.”
He gave her the address and a few other details that might help narrow down her search, and she dove into the world wide web as enthusiastically as if it were the Fortress of Solitude. The glow of the screens turned her pale face almost luminescent.
There didn’t appear to be anything for me to do here. Of course, it wasn’t as if Omen was contributing in some brilliant way either. He drifted over to the display shelves, running his finger over what looked like a ray-gun and then lifting a katana to study the arc of its blade.
“Hmm,” Ms. Super Hacker said, more to herself than to us. “This could be—oops, no, I didn’t need to see that many boobs all on one lady… What about—oh, that’s a shipment of counterfeit plushies. Hmm… Yikes. ‘Seeing you waiting at the bus stop, I couldn’t help succumbing to the radiation of your smile’—nope, definitely not, lots of luck with that missed connection, weirdo. Hey, this is an interesting thread.”
She leaned even closer to the screen, as if she might climb right into it in another minute or two. I ambled a little closer, but she was opening and swiping away windows too fast for me to make out much of what she’d unearthed.
Omen was still exploring her display cases with a rustle here and a clink there. I glanced around the rest of the room, searching for an opportunity to show I was more than dead weight. A stack of ramen packages sat on a little shelving unit in front of the moped. Maybe I could offer to cook her up a snack?
Wait, was I reading that right? She had… barbeque octopus balls flavor. And let’s not forget the evergreen classic, mocha cheddar corn. Where the hell had she picked up those? More importantly—I averted my face so she wouldn’t see me wrinkle my nose—why?
She tapped away at the keyboard some more with a rattle like machine-gun fire. I turned to examine the arsenal Omen had found so fascinating—just as he swiveled away from the cases with a metallic flash.
The curved dagger he’d picked up sliced across my bare forearm. A stinging pain sprung up along the line he’d carved. I did yelp then, yanking my arm back toward me so fast a fresh pang echoed through my other shoulder with its bandaged wound. Blood welled along the cut.
Omen swiveled the weapon in his hand with a practiced grace and set it back on the shelf. “I didn’t see you there,” he said, in the least apologetic-sounding apology ever, and grabbed my hand to yank my injured arm into one of the streams of light. “Let’s see the damage.”
Ruse had straightened up, eyeing Omen warily and me with a warmer concern. “We can’t have you carving up our mortal. Are you all right, Miss Blaze?”
“It isn’t much more than a scratch,” I had to admit, but the pain was still nibbling across my skin with a similar sensation to the prick of Pickle’s claws. Omen was studying the wound as if he thought he’d find the meaning of life in the slow seeping of my blood. An uneasy quiver raced down my spine.
Had that really been an accident, or had it been some kind of test to see my reaction? If it was a test, what in Waldo’s name was he looking for?
And had I passed?
Our superhero had glanced up. Seeing my arm, she turned slightly green. She jerked her gaze away, her balance wobbling in her seat.
Fainting at the sight of a tiny bit of blood—not a great quality in a caped avenger.
“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” she said in a tight voice, waving toward a door in the far corner. Ruse hustled o
ver there while Omen raised my arm to catch the light better. He was frowning as if I’d managed to disappoint him somehow. Had he expected me to produce skin of steel?
Whatever he’d intended, he definitely didn’t look remotely worried about my well-being. As Ruse returned, brandishing an adhesive bandage, my stomach knotted. Omen dropped my hand and stepped away, all trace of emotion vanishing.
I couldn’t trust him, clearly—couldn’t rely on him to care whether he chopped my arm in two. And as long as Bossypants held me in such contempt, I couldn’t totally count on my trio either. As much as they’d supported me, they still followed his orders. They’d never leave me in danger on purpose, but all it would take was one risky situation where they couldn’t get to me fast enough because he’d occupied them elsewhere, and my ass would be kaput.
As long as the shadowkind quartet were the only people at my back, at least. Vivi was coming home—and maybe I should start thinking about what other allies I could round up who’d follow my lead more than Omen’s.
Ms. Super Hacker must have recovered from her blood-induced queasiness. She let out a cry of victory and drummed her hands on the console in front of her.
“I’ve got something. Someone’s set up an exchange to happen in just a couple of days—potent creature of unusual inclinations. Isn’t that exactly what you were looking for?”
A hint of a smile curled Omen’s lips, but I couldn’t say I found it reassuring. “I believe it is. Let’s hear the full story.”
3
Sorsha
I was stumbling through the dark hallway of a house. Our house, the one Luna had rented the first floor of—and Luna was there by the door, so tense her skin had broken out in its supernatural sparkle. I could almost see the flutter of her fae wings behind her back.
“My shoes,” I said, clutching the duffel bag I’d kept packed for emergencies, my head full of a sleepy haze. I had no idea what this emergency was, only that my guardian had shaken me awake with an urgent hiss of my name. “I can’t find them—”
“Never mind that. Someone’s coming, Sorsha. I can feel it. Wear these, and we’ll go.” She grabbed her sparkly sneakers off the shoe rack and shoved them at me. As I tugged them on, they pinched my toes. Her feet were at least a size smaller than mine.
“Are you sure we’re actually in danger?” I whispered as she eased the door open. The only real concern my self-centered sixteen-year-old brain could process was: where the hell were we going to go now? “We’ve moved how many times already, and no one’s ever—”
She tugged me with her outside, ignoring my protests. As Luna crossed the lawn, I stopped to try to wriggle my feet more solidly into the shoes. When I looked up, she’d reached the sidewalk—and several figures sprang at her from the night.
Whips that seemed formed of light slashed through the air; a blade flashed; someone hurled a glinting net. Luna whirled around with a shocked squeal. The bindings squeezed tight around her skinny form before I could so much as cry out. Her body shuddered—and then burst into a firework of sparks.
I jolted awake with my shriek still locked in my throat. The air around me was glittering, but it was the gleam of sunlight through crystal, not the sparkly shattering of my guardian’s death. Sunlight through several crystals, actually—there were about a dozen of them dangling from silver chains in front of the window in the little cabin we’d found not too far outside of town.
The clang of horror faded from my nerves. I rubbed my forehead and sat up, but my stomach stayed clenched.
The fae woman I’d called Auntie Luna—the woman who’d saved me from the hunters who’d murdered my parents, who’d given me the best mortal childhood a shadowkind could, who’d never made me feel anything less than unreservedly loved—had died more than eleven years ago. I hadn’t dreamed about that night in ages. It brought the same old questions back to nibble at me: if I’d just moved a little faster, left my own freaking shoes somewhere I could easily put my feet into like she’d reminded me a million times…
But all those what ifs didn’t change the fact that she’d died at the hands of attackers with the same weapons the sword-star crew used, at least one of those weapons marked with that sword-star symbol. I might have screwed up, but they were the ones who’d killed her. While I couldn’t change anything I’d done back then, there was plenty I could do to make them regret their life choices now.
They weren’t going to get away with what they’d done to her or any of the other shadowkind. Including Omen, as big of an asshole as he could be. On the balance of things, I’d take him over the men with whips and nets any day.
Rolling my shoulders carefully to test the injured one, I got up. It appeared the property we’d ended up on had once been used for New Age-y retreats. Along with the crystals, three bunk beds were crammed into the single open-concept room between posters with nature photos and encouraging phrases like, “Believe in the sunshine of your spirit!” We’d found a heap of rolled yoga mats in the shed outside. But based on the dust that had coated nearly every surface and the weeds choking the driveway, no one had made use of the place in months, if not years.
I stepped out into the yard where Omen had parked the Oldsmobile under the shelter of an oak tree hung with fraying dreamcatchers. They swayed in the warm morning breeze. In that first second, it appeared I was alone on the property. Then my four shadowkind friends shimmered from the shadows into the daylight.
They didn’t look all that friendly. Omen’s mouth was set in a tight smile, his gaze holding its usual chill as it came to rest on me. The other three were watching him. Thorn stood with muscles tensed, his frown even deeper than usual, and Ruse’s expression looked uncharacteristically serious. Snap’s eyes had widened with worry.
“There’s no need for all this fuss,” Omen said, clearly picking up the thread of a conversation they’d been having out of my hearing. “If she’s half as competent as you’ve spent so much time trying to convince me she is, she’ll handle this without any trouble at all.”
“But we shouldn’t be trying to make things harder for Sorsha,” Snap protested.
I walked over, raising my eyebrows. “What exactly am I supposed to be handling that’s so very hard?”
Ruse’s lips twitched as the incubus no doubt thought up a few suggestive remarks he could make in response, but he settled for a subdued smirk. Omen lifted his chin with the authoritarian air that was getting on my nerves more each day.
“We’re attempting to turn the tables on our enemies at the hand-off tomorrow evening,” he said. “Enemies who’ve already proven themselves very skilled at overwhelming us. If you’re going to play any part in the ambush, I want to be sure your mortal clumsiness won’t ruin our chances.”
If I was so clumsy, he was lucky I didn’t trip right now and accidentally ram my knee into his junk. But sure, he hadn’t seen me in action—maybe it was understandable for him to be skeptical. I’d just bash that skepticism into the stratosphere, and if he was still being a jerk after that, then we’d see where my knee ended up.
I shrugged. “Fine. Hit me with your best shot.”
Omen swept his arm toward the other men. “You see. She doesn’t require your protection.”
“She does occasionally take on more than even a shadowkind would think is wise,” Thorn muttered. To be fair, it was true that he might not have needed to save me from any bullets if I hadn’t insisted on handling that job alone.
“I’m sure Omen doesn’t have anything too horrifying in mind,” I said, and smiled sweetly at the other guy. “Do you?”
Omen gave me an expression even more openly disdainful than usual. “We’ll start with this: my colleagues and I will take Betsy into the city. You will make your own way there, by whatever means you can come up with. I expect to see you at the Finger no later than noon.”
It was a trip of nearly a hundred miles, and it was already past nine. Ruse tsked with teasing disapproval. “I did hear you like to play hardball with the
mortals, Luce.”
“Luce?” I repeated.
“Short for Lucifer.” Ruse cocked his head toward Omen. “Not that the actual prince of Hell actually exists—or Hell itself the way humans conceive of it, for that matter—but from what I understand, our boss here used to make a game out of convincing mortals he held the title.”
Omen cut his icy eyes toward the incubus. “That was a long time ago and is hardly relevant. I’d rather you did away with the nickname.”
“But it suits you so well. You even have the tai—”
“Enough!” Omen barked. “You’re wasting her time.” His tawny hair rippled, a few tufts rising. So, there were a few topics that could get Bossypants emotional. Interesting.
And what had Ruse been going to say he had? The memory rose up of the tail with the devilish tip I’d caught a glimpse of when Omen had sprung from his prison cell in beastly form. Maybe that was the shadowkind feature he kept even in human form—the slacks he was wearing were loose enough to conceal it.
I yanked my gaze from Omen’s behind to his face before it became too noticeable that I was checking out his ass, as fine an ass as it was. Such a pity it was attached to a massive jerk.
My time to complete his challenge was ticking away. How in holy heathens was I going to make it downtown in less than three hours without a vehicle? Even if taxis came out this far into the middle of nowhere, my phone had no reception here.
Back out now, and I’d never live it down. I waved toward the car. “Go on, then. I’ll see you at the Finger by noon.”
Omen strode toward the station wagon. The others followed more hesitantly, Snap lingering on the lawn until I shot him a smile more confident than I actually felt. He immediately smiled back, beaming back at me with so much certainty in my abilities that I had a spring in my step when I ducked into the cabin to grab my backpack full of my cat-burglar gear.
