Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  HackerTee: 2h. SB

  I probably didn’t need to encode my message to HT, he had tighter security than the Pentagon, but I did just the same. You never could be too careful anymore. In short, my message let him know that I needed information on Shiller, ALL the information he could get his hands on, expanded to include family and friends and I needed it quick and dirty, hence the slutty. He’d responded to give him a couple of hours.

  About that time, Dane came home. He parked behind me in the drive, got out and stopped beside my car with an odd look on his face. Embarrassment maybe? I shoved open my door awkwardly.

  “There’s a spare key under the gnome, you don’t have to wait for me again.” He walked away and unlocked the door, then stepped inside.

  I hurried to catch up to him, almost forgetting to lock my car. Obviously, that was a problem I’d had before. You think I’d be better about it, given the guns and other equipment that I kept hidden inside, but no.

  “I’m getting a friend to dig up some dirt on our guy. We should have everything we never wanted to know on Shiller by dinner time.” I said, approaching the kitchen counter.

  I slipped onto a bar stool and watched as Dane grunted, took down two wine glasses and pulled out a bottle of Sweet Red Moscato. He uncorked it and poured us both a glass without saying a word.

  He downed his glass before I’d even brought mine to my lips. He was definitely worked up about something, but it looked like he wasn’t going to just tell me what was wrong, that would be too simple.

  I let the wine roll over my tongue while I considered the best thing to say. But then I remembered we weren’t friends, we weren’t lovers and who cared if he was in a bad mood, so long as it didn’t involve our hunt for Elena.

  “Anything you want to tell me?” I set the wine glass down and gave myself a refill. What can I say? It was kick-your-mama good and I was damn broke at the moment.

  “No.” He shook his head, turned to look through the small window over the sink. After a long, awkward pause, Dane faced me again.

  “I’m sorry for my behavior earlier. I’m under a lot of stress and haven’t been taking care of myself these past two weeks,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, but that was a half-truth.

  I assumed he meant flirting with me, but why apologize for that? Plus, it kind of sounded like he was saying the only reason he’d acted like that was because he was hungry, like he’d flirt with anything meal worthy. That was a hell of a blow to a gal’s ego, no?

  “I’m an incubus. Seduction is what I do. It’s who I am. And that makes it impossible to ever know if someone is into me on their own or if I’ve persuaded them, even accidentally. And on top of all that, it’s not the time. Not while Elena is still out there being tortured.”

  He frowned, looked down to the almost empty wine glass in his hand and finished it off. Then he poured himself another glass. It was looking to be that kind of night.

  I didn’t want to think about anything he’d just said, because then I’d have to consider my own feelings and I certainly wasn’t in the mood for that. I didn’t want to spend the night watching him mope around either. We needed action. Noise. Progress.

  “Hey, you’re a local. Where do local low-life Supes go out to play?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the Black Kettle? Why?”

  “Because we’re going fishing.” I stood and motioned to Dane’s attire. “Go change into something a little less talk and a lot more action.”

  He genuinely looked offended as I walked away to spice up my own appearance, laughing silently to myself. It was either that or pout about my sore feelings. I’d take denial any day.

  When I emerged ten minutes later, the look on Dane’s face was well worth the self-loathing I’d felt whoring myself up.

  “You look… good.” His voice bobbled.

  I wore skin-tight, pale jeans, ripped fashionably in several places and black stiletto ankle boots. From the waist up, it was on. Olive green lacey push-up bra, barely covered with a black, strappy camisole one size too small that also didn’t do much to hide the dagger sticking out of my waistband. My blonde hair was down and fell in soft waves around my face, framing the purple-black lipstick that I’d carefully painted on.

  “You look… different?” It was my turn to forget how to use my words. “Good though. Hot actually—I bet we’ll have to beat the chicks off you with a stick tonight.”

  Dane’s cheeks turned a nice shade of pink. “I don’t know about all that. You’ve got a plan, right?”

  I winked, “Maybe. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  He cracked a smile, picked up his keys. “Come on then. Let’s do this thing.”

  We arrived at the bar twenty minutes later and it was all that I’d expected. The dregs of the un-human world, swarming like rats in a dumpster. Magic-addicted witches flirted with sallow vampires, apathetic bartenders mixed in a bit of fairy dust with each ounce they served, sirens twisting to imaginary music atop wooden crates.

  “Two minutes and I feel the need for a scalding shower,” Dane stood to my left with one hand upon the small of my back.

  It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. But I couldn’t think about that. We had work to do.

  “Well, what’s your plan?”

  I scanned the room again slowly. “The bar first.”

  He nodded and we made our way to the germ-ridden surface. The bartender did her best to ignore us at first, so I bade my time. Leaning against Dane, I giggled like a shallow little twit, and flirted with him, porn star style. I wanted attention, for people to notice us.

  It took him a minute, but eventually he realized what I was doing and played a long. At least I hope he was playing. Or maybe I hoped he wasn’t. I’ll never tell.

  Dane lifted me by the hips, set me on the bar in front of him and kissed me hard and fast, for everyone to see. Instinctively, I scooted closer, wrapped my legs around the small of his back and put my hands on either side of his face. I looked into his eyes, so deep and dark, and suddenly I wasn’t playing a part anymore. I wanted him. Like yesterday.

  I leaned down, my lips inches from claiming him for myself.

  “If you wanna fuck her on the bar, you’re gonna have to buy a drink first,” said a high-pitched voice to my left.

  And poof the moment was gone.

  Dane cleared his throat and ordered. “Two beers, bottled. And nothing extra.”

  He made a sprinkling motion with his hand and waited for the bartender, an anorexic fairy with thinning red hair and a penchant for stripper clothes, to acknowledge that she understood. No fairy shit. She nodded and turned to retrieve our bottles.

  While we waited, Dane leaned in and spoke low. “I’ve bought the drinks, so I guess we have the all clear.”

  He winked and I rolled my eyes. “Incorrigible.”

  Shoving him back, I dismounted from the bar and surveyed the room. Every eyeball in the place was pointed at us. Good. It was time to start chatting up the bottom feeders.

  I snagged my beer from the bar and nodded to Dane. “Go, mingle. See if anyone has heard of Shiller or a black witch with a hankering for succubi.”

  “Right,” he grabbed his beer and headed off to work the left side of the bar.

  I made my way towards the right, but not before pit-stopping back to the bar for a quick Q and A with the bartender.

  “I need something not on the menu,” I said to her.

  She continued wiping out grimy glasses with an equally grimy rag. “It’ll cost you. What’ll it be?”

  I pulled the last of my cash out of my pocket—a whole fifty bucks—and leaned in closer. “I’m looking for a witch named Shiller. He ever come in here?”

  I slid the fifty discretely across the bar. She took it without even glancing up.

  “Can’t say that he has. What’s he to you.”

  Ignoring her question, I pushed again, “So you know him then? What’s he like?”<
br />
  “Knowing and knowing of are two different things.”

  I didn’t have time for riddles. I decided to try another trick from bag. One of the perks of being my mother’s daughter is that I’d inherited her empath abilities. While I couldn’t wield them nearly as well as she did, I managed fine enough. It was this gift I called up, gathering a wave of emotion at the ready—in this case desire—and aimed it straight at her sour little face.

  In theory, if she wanted to please me more than anything else, she’d spill everything she knew, and then some. I leaned in letting the warm-and-tinglies flow from me to her. She relaxed, smiled even. Leaned on the bar and looked me in the eyes.

  That was progress at least. Turns out it was a wasted effort on my part though. She knew little more than she’d initially told me. There was a witch named Shiller, whom she’d never met and hadn’t done anything to get on the local Supe radar. That was the end her valuable information.

  I turned and left her staring after me as I went to chat up some more locals. One troll, three low-level witches and two banshee’s later I was no better off than when we’d started. There was one smarmy guy I avoided, leapfrogging around the room every time he drew near. The last I saw of him he was at the bar chatting with the junkie fairy.

  Otherwise, my fishing excursion was proving to be a bust. I’d given up finding out anything useful in that dive when I seated myself at an empty table that wasn’t so empty a second later.

  He was tall, blonde and definitely dangerous. Mr. Smarmy. Blech.

  “Can I help you?” I picked at my nails, pretending to be bored already.

  He trailed one fingertip over my arm and grinned, much like a coyote about to snag itself a rabbit. My skin recoiled from the touch, but not from any magic I could discern. I had him pegged for a shifter then, something with fangs or claws. A predator in every sense of the word.

  “I was thinking that I could help you.” He said with a drawl. “I’ve been watching you all night and it seems to me that you’re after something. I might have that something. Thought you might want to work it off. A little quid pro quo if you’d like.”

  He licked his lips and made a point to stare at my rack for longer than polite. I opened up my empath channels just a smidge to get a read on him. I instantly regretted it. The things he had in mind made my stomach turn.

  “I’m not a prostitute,” I spat and considered turning him into a slug or a cockroach. “And whatever you’ve got, partner, I’m sure it won’t do a damn thing for me.”

  Narrowing eyes, mouth pressed into a tight line. Yep, I’d gotten to him.

  I waggled my pinky finger at him for good measure and opened my big mouth for one more zinger, because I just couldn’t help myself. “Also, if I wanted something that small in my mouth, I’d go to the bodega on the corner and buy a pack of breath mints. At least they come in different flavors.”

  His face contorted and purpled with insta-rage. Seems his manhood was a hot-button subject. That point went to me. The next one went to him, unfortunately.

  His skin rippled and a low growl escaped from his twisted mouth. Yep, definitely a shifter. And an actively shifting one at that. Fuck, maybe I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

  I shoved back from the table and looked around for Dane. I don’t know why, it’s not like he’d be able to seduce the bastard to keep it from trying to eat me. I was on my own even when I wasn’t.

  I had about three seconds to process and try to protect myself before he exploded into full beast mode. That was the bad news—I’d pissed off a Werelion. The even worse news? He had me pinned to the floor before I could bat an eye. I didn’t have time to do anything but throw up an arm to hold him off.

  The room went eerily silent as his big old mouth full of fangs lowered, rumbling closer. Fat globs of saliva dripped onto my face and all I could think was that was going to be a bitch to shampoo out of my hair.

  His teeth clacked over my face and reminded me of the spot I’d put myself in. Right, I weighed my options. Quickly. Blast of magic—nope, too likely I’d hurt someone else. Pistol—nope, I couldn’t get to the gun at my back and even if I could that would have been too risky as well. That left a blade.

  With my free hand, I wiggled out the dagger tucked into my waistband, one inch at a time, while trying to avoid his fangs and claws. It wasn’t easy and more than once I felt a claw rip into the skin on my arms, legs and torso. I had to ignore the pain and focus on the knife.

  Finally freed from its sheath, I spun the dagger in my palm and shoved it with all my strength into the space between the lion’s ribs, praying it was long enough to reach his heart, otherwise he’d die slow enough to take me with him.

  The beast’s roar thundered as my blade sank into his flesh, so loud that I thought my eardrums would pop. Then the dick with a weenie complex collapsed on top of me in a big bloody heap.

  The air whooshed out of my lungs and I gasped for air.

  “Quinn? Shit. Help me move this fucker.” Dane’s voice sounded so far away.

  Then blackness began to swallow me, but right as it reached smothering darkness, light filled my eyes. Dane’s worried face appeared within the light. “Quinn, you okay?”

  I groaned and pushed myself into a seated position. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  The rest of the bar was silent, likely as stunned as I was. It was unnerving as hell though. I shook my head to clear it, spied my dagger sticking out of the golden corpse beside me and retrieved it.

  Wiping the bulk of the lion’s blood off on the thigh of my pants, I staggered to my feet and put some distance between me and everyone else. “I am so not cleaning that up.” I waved the bloody blade behind me as I walked away.

  Dane caught up to me, put a hand on my arm and pushed me through the back door and into the cool night air. Before the door shut behind us, the conversations inside exploded with noise. No doubt that was the best show they’d seen around there lately. Then all was silent, save my own heart-beat pounding in my ears.

  “Did you seriously just bring a knife to a magic fight?” He drug me outside.

  My whole body vibrated too, but not from excitement. That had been close—too close. “Stop. I’m angry enough at myself.”

  “You should be,” he let go of me and paced the alley in a tight circle.

  I leaned against the blackened brick wall and drew in a few deep breaths. My legs felt unsteady and my stomach did a couple of rolls, so I sank down the wall, resting on the backs of my heels. I put my head into my hands and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  He stopped and crouched down in my face. “I’m sure. What were you thinking? Do you have a death wish or something?”

  “Maybe I do.” I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall.

  Dane took my hand, squeezed. “Why the hell didn’t you just blast the bastard? You could have, you know. No one would blame you. He had it coming.”

  “Because…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish.

  “Because what? If you can’t even talk about it, and you can’t use magic to defend yourself, boy are you in the wrong line of work. I doubt you’ll last a month.” He stood, cast a sad look at me, and then folded his arms over his chest, waiting for my response.

  I didn’t have a good one. Dane was right. I had to get past my hang-ups before they got me killed. I stood and touched his arm. He turned to me and I gulped. Here goes nothing, I thought.

  “You said you knew about what happened to me as a child. You meant being kidnapped, held in some sort of twisted ransom to lure my mother to Italy, right?”

  He nodded. I frowned.

  “Is that all you know of it?” I lowered my eyes to the asphalt, focusing on an old pile of vomit. Oddly enough, that made me feel better.

  “Pretty much. Why?”

  I wrung my hands and screwed up the courage to spit the rest out. “Well, when the crazy witch came to take me, I was with my nanny. When one of the goons grabbed Morgan, I just reacted.”
>
  Standing, I paced away from him, then stopped about five feet away. The rest I couldn’t say to his face. I couldn’t stand to see his reaction. I bit my lip and soldiered on.

  “I didn’t know I was a witch, you see. I was only a child. I’d had no training.” I sucked in a deep breath. “My instinct was to protect Morgan, but my untrained magic went sideways. Instead of taking out the goon, I killed my nanny.”

  Just words, but that was the first time I’d confessed in more than a decade. My heart hurt like it had just had happened the day before. Some wounds always stay fresh.

  I felt Dane come up behind me as a tear slipped down my face. Strong arms wrapped around me and I let myself relax into him for the briefest moment. Then I stiffened my spine and stepped away. I turned to face him.

  “I can use magic for small things. But when it comes to lethal magic, I freeze. What if it goes wrong and I hurt the wrong person? I can’t take that chance.” I searched his face for understanding at least.

  He gave me a weak smile, laced with pity, and stepped forward. “That’s horrible and I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you need to recognize that you are not that kid anymore. You have grown into a powerful witch and that means you may have to use your powers to defend yourself. Or someone else.”

  “I know, but…” I started.

  He cut me off. “No but’s, Quinn. Guns and knives can be just as unpredictable. And while mundane weapons may slow down a Supe, they won’t kill most of us. Not right away. If you believe nothing else, believe this: at some point you’ll need to use the biggest weapon in your arsenal—your magic—and if you don’t you will get someone killed. Maybe even yourself.”

  I shook my head and turned to the mouth of the alley. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  6

  Driving back to Dane’s was awkward to say the least. Uncomfortable silence filled the space between us as I drove. Dane stared out the window like a triggered child, his hands constantly on the move.