by Quirah Casey
“You can’t be civil to save your life, can you?” the pixie sneers as she walks toward the door. “No wonder my people hate you.”
How ungrateful.
“I kept you alive and safe in one of my houses, even though I didn’t have to. I think that qualifies as being fucking civil.” Any doubts I had about risking this woman’s life are fading fast. If she wants to be an ungrateful ass, I’m going to treat her like one.
“You only saved us so you could milk us for information,” she says as we walk to my car. “So don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”
I’m at her neck with my knife in an instant, pressing her up against the car. Her eyes widen as she holds her breath.
“And what’s to keep me from killing you now?” I hiss. “I don’t need you or your information anymore. Keep quiet on the way to Lobrooke, and I might let you live.”
She nods ever so slightly, careful not to touch the blade. All her bravado is long gone. I step back and point at the passenger door.
“Get in.” I throw a bandana at her. “And put this on your eyes.”
The pixie remains silent for the whole drive to Lobrooke, though I do catch her frowning in my general direction.
When we get to the heart of Oltinie, I rip away the blindfold and order her to get the hell out of my car. “Why didn’t you bring the faerie with us?” she asks cautiously, wrongly guessing that stepping out of the car puts her out of my line of fire.
I bare my teeth at her. “None of your business. Now go, before my civility wears off.”
She slams the door, muttering harsh words under her breath that I choose to ignore. She jogs away from the car, and I watch her for a moment, then turn into an alley, park the car, and follow her on foot. I pull the shadows over myself as I catch up to her, watching as she knocks on the door of a small, beat-up house. The door swings open, and the lady inside lets out a surprised gasp when her eyes land on the pixie. She pulls her into a hug before dragging her into the house and slamming the door.
Now all I have to do is wait.
♛
The waiting ends up taking longer than I thought; I follow the pixie around for two days. My phone lights up continuously as I ignore calls and texts from Mel, London, and Blaine.
Patiently, I continue to wait. The pixie has returned to a normal routine, trekking to and from work every day, and yet there’s been no sign of Alftripson or anyone else following her.
At least until the third night comes around.
I’m just starting to get impatient and a little doubtful when I notice someone following the pixie on her usual walk home from work. The stalker sticks to the shadows, staying out of sight, but I can tell he’s a man from his tall, slim silhouette, and when I sniff the air, the scent of wolf hits me.
Alftripson.
The pixie is oblivious to her stalker as she walks down the street, shoulders tense and head down. She has no idea that she’s about to be hurt or killed, and I almost feel pity for her. I catch movement in my periphery, and when I turn, I spot a second man, stockier and shorter than the first, walking on the other side of the street. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, trying to hide in the shadows. Little does he know that the shadows are good friends of mine, and they provide no cover from me. I scan the street for more threats, but other than the two stalkers and the pixie, the road is empty. The pixie ducks into her usual alleyway shortcut, and I shake my head. If there were an ideal time for the stalkers to attack, now would be it.
I cross the street, fully engulfed by the shadows, and enter the alley, waiting. It doesn’t take long.
The pixie lets out a scream as the bigger man grabs her, and Alftripson steps into the light, smirking. “You were stupid to come back out—” he starts, but his sentence comes to an abrupt halt as I grab him and throw him into the concrete wall, dust clouding around his body. I drop the shadows and call upon Otmscheniye. The sword appears in my hand, and before the other man can react, I lodge her in his neck.
The pixie shrieks as the man’s blood splatters across her face, and I can’t help but chuckle under my breath as my blood pumps faster from the adrenaline. I turn, pulling my sword from the man’s neck and pressing her against Alftripson’s throat. “Don’t even think about it,” I warn as I see hair bristle across his skin. “If you shift, I’ll break every bone in your body.”
The wounded man presses his hands to his neck, trying to stanch the gushing blood, but death is already on his doorstep. Within seconds, the light fades from his eyes.
I recall Otmscheniye and grab Alftripson by his collar, pushing him up against the wall. “Open your mouth,” I command, and he has no choice but to obey. I reach into his mouth without flinching, and my fingers lock onto a small object behind his molars. I smile.
“You won’t have an easy death like your comrade, mutt.” I pull the object out of his mouth. It’s a capsule, just like the one the server used to kill himself. I pocket it.
Once I’ve given Alftripson a blow to the head and checked to make sure he’s really out, I drive us all back to The Lair, enjoying the silence. I no longer have to threaten the pixie; her shock keeps her mouth shut. I stride through the back entrance to avoid being seen, throwing Alftripson over my shoulder and carrying him inside. The pixie wordlessly follows. Once we reach my office, I throw Alftripson to the floor and call Mel. I hear loud music pulsing in the background before she speaks.
“Blue! Where the hell are you? We’ve been loo—”
“I’m in my office.”
There’s a long pause. “What?”
“I’m in my office.”
The line goes dead, and moments later my door is thrown open. Mel storms in with London hot on her heels.
“What are you two now? Best friends?” I recline in my office chair.
“London was already here in the club; we’ve both been waiting for you to reappear.” Mel’s eyes trail over Alftripson’s body before landing on the pixie, who’s sitting in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees. She’s still covered in blood, rocking back and forth.
“My god, what did you to her?” Mel hisses at me.
“Nothing. Anyone got a cigar?” I ask, searching through my drawers. “I can’t seem to find any of mine.”
“You obviously did something to her, Pudding. She’s clearly on the verge of a mental break, and it looks like she’s had a bucket of blood thrown over her,” London says dryly as he retrieves a cigar from his pocket, lighting it and holding it out to me like he’s on autopilot.
I accept the cigar, wondering what variety it is this time. “It wasn’t a bucket of blood. It came from her attacker’s neck. An attacker I saved her from, by the way. It’s been a productive day for me.” I take a drag and relish in the euphoria that overtakes me as I let out a short laugh. “Can you believe she has yet to thank me?”
“I really hope you’re joking,” London grumbles, walking over to Alftripson and nudging him with a foot. “Is he dead?”
“He better not be,” Mel cautions, her fiery eyes locking onto mine.
I scoff. “What? Do you think I’m an idiot? Of course he’s not dead; we still need him.” I point to the pixie. “Get her out of here, Mel. And then come right back.”
I watch as Mel’s shoulders tense, and then she hangs her head and sighs. She helps the pixie up before turning to glare at me. “We need to have a talk.”
“Another one?” I drawl, reaching into my drawer and pulling out some rope. “Tie him up,” I instruct London, throwing it to him.
“Gods, I don’t know why she still puts up with you.” London hoists Alftripson into one of the office chairs. “You clearly irritate her. I wouldn’t blame her if she were the rat in your den.”
“You seem a little irritated yourself, Stendahl.”
He keeps his voice low. “I told you not to do anything stupid.” He turns to face me, his intense gaze meeting mine.
“And since when do I listen to you?”
&n
bsp; He shakes his head in astonishment. “You’re a hypocrite. You expect us all to jump at your every command like we’re your fucking wyryns, but when we ask you to do something as simple as waiting for us to come up with a plan, you ignore us. You know, I’m a palha, too. I can give orders, same as you!” He throws his hands up. “I mean…fuck, for all we knew you could’ve have been taken out! You couldn’t answer your phone long enough to say, don’t worry about me, I’m just out being bloody pig-headed!” His voice raises as his eyes narrow.
The challenge riles my own dragon, and not just in anger. Fuck. Am I…turned on by this?
“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” London barks. I realize he was speaking again, but I didn’t hear one word that came out of his mouth.
“Honestly? No.” I take another puff of the cigar. “What is this?”
“Gods, I don’t even know why I bother with you,” he mutters, turning around to finish tying up the wolf. “It’s a ritue. I have them imported from a genie in Australia. I don’t know what the fuck he puts in his cigars, but they’re my favorite.” He sighs deeply. “You should apologize to Mel. She was so worried about you, Blue. You really put her through hell.”
“Don’t act like you understand our relationship. Mel knows that I do my own thing, and she trusts me to make the right calls. I mean, if we’d waited any longer, we probably wouldn’t have captured Alftripson until his people made another move.”
There’s a beep from my office door, and Mel enters with Blaine in tow. He opens his mouth, to no doubt start yelling, but when he sees Alftripson, he pauses, a frown crossing his face. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with the dead wolf found in Oltinie, would you?”
“Not a thing, Agent.”
“Really? You know you’re the only person in town who uses a sword, right?”
“Lots of people use swords.” I stand, putting the cigar out. “But that’s beside the point. We need to get to work.” I clap my hands together and gesture at Alftripson. “Someone throw some water on the wolf so we can start the interrogation.”
“There’s no we. I’ll do the interrogating.” Blaine holds out a hand as if to ward me away.
“Hey—”
“I agree with the agent. And since according to you, we’re a democracy, the vote is two to one.” London folds his arms over his chest. “Blaine specializes in interrogation. Let him do his thing.”
“I specialize in interrogation too!”
“I’m sorry, let me correct myself. He specializes in legal interrogation.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Mel shoots me an infuriated look. I sit back down, crossing my own arms over my chest. I’ve already pissed her off enough for one day, and she’s liable to be in a bad mood for a week or so already. I plan to be long done with this case by then, and it’ll be annoying if she isn’t speaking to me as we resume regular den business.
Blaine, ever the gentleman, decides to wait for Alftripson to wake up on his own.
After nearly half an hour has passed without the wolf stirring, Blaine starts to get antsy.
“What did you do to him?”
“I just gave him a little tap to the head, Agent. He should be up any moment now.”
As if in confirmation of my words, Alftripson starts to stir. There’s a chorus of relieved deep breaths around me. I roll my eyes.
“Are you kidding me? You all are dragons, right? You must have heard his heartbeat.”
Alftripson’s eyes open slowly, and as soon as he gets his bearings, he lets out a string of curses. I can see his jaw working harshly, and I smile.
“I took your capsule before I knocked you out. Don’t you remember?” I pull the pill out of my pocket, and his eyes widen.
“We’re going to give you the chance to work with us, and in return, the CDA will offer you a plea deal,” Blaine stands directly in front of Alftripson, looking down at him.
I almost ask the agent why he’s lying. There’s no way the wolf will be leaving this room alive.
Alftripson shakes his head. “No. I won’t speak.”
“Just tell us who your employer is,” Blaine says, his voice soft. I can tell he’s trying to play good cop. For the next thirty minutes, he continues the act, pleading with Alftripson. The wolf won’t talk. Guess it’s time for me to join the show. Every good cop needs a bad one, after all.
“You’re wasting our fucking time.” I shove Blaine out of my way, listening to his grunt as he catches himself just before he can hit the ground. “Listen here, mutt.” I wrap my hand around Alftripson’s throat, and he starts to gasp for air. “We tried this the easy way. Time for the hard way. Well, it’ll be hard for you, anyway. This shit is easy for me.” I let go of his throat, pulling my arm back before punching him hard enough to snap his head to the side.
“Shit, did you break his neck?” London asks, right behind me as he peers at the wolf.
“No, he’s fine. For now.” I narrow my eyes in the wolf’s direction, calculating my next move. “Here’s your opportunity to leave before it gets messy,” I warn Blaine and Mel without turning. There won’t be any room for bleeding hearts in the next few moments. “Anyone who protests will find themself tied to the other chair, no matter who you are.” I can practically see both of their mouths opening in protest without looking. “Don’t fucking push me.” There’s silence, and then I hear the door open and close. I turn around to find Blaine gone. I’m not surprised; Agent Do-Good would never stand by and watch me beat the shit out of someone, no matter how guilty they are.
“Who’s your leader?” I ask Alftripson.
He remains silent, his eyes blank.
I punch him again, hard enough that London steps in to catch his chair when it nearly tips over. I hit the wolf again and again before repeating the question, quiet, slow, deadly: “Who is your leader?”
Alftripson lets out a harsh laugh, then spits blood at me. “She’s much scarier than you.”
Impossible.
I pull a blade from my boot. “I wonder what we should start cutting first.” I run the knife across his neck before dragging it south, all the way to his crotch. The wolf tenses. “Looks like we have a winner.”
I tear his jeans open as I hear London swear behind me. “Last chance,” I tell Alftripson, my knife grazing his family jewels.
He gulps but remains silent, and I can’t disguise my shock. Usually, when you threaten to cut someone’s balls off, they sing like a canary.
“Well, then.” I grip the blade harder, ready to take action.
“She’s in Oltinie,” Alftripson blurts. “That’s all I can say! Please, please don’t do it. I can’t tell you who she is.”
“That’s not what I want to know,” I tell him, shaking my head. “One more time, wolf. What’s her name?”
He doesn’t speak, and I’m impressed. His master must be scary, indeed. I half-smile.
“Well, I’m a woman who keeps her word.”
The wolf’s scream rips through the room as my blade plunges through his genitals.
“Did I mention that this knife is covered in wolfsbane? No? I thought I did. Whoops, my bad.” I’m not even sure he hears me over his desperate screams as blood starts to pool on the seat of the chair and the floor beneath him.
I frown at the stain on the brown carpet. “I knew we should have gone with a darker color. I’m going to need to get someone to clean that up.” I hear London gag, but I don’t turn to look at him as I pat Alftripson on the shoulder. “We’ll resume after you heal up. While you’re at it, think about how much that name is really worth.”
I turn to Mel and London. London looks like he’s going to be sick, his skin significantly paler than usual. Mel has her gaze carefully turned away from the bleeding wolf, her shoulders tense. Alftripson’s still screaming his head off, and I don’t expect that he’ll be stopping any time soon.
“Anyone up for a drink?”
“Gods,” London mutters. Mel rises from the sofa, and they follow me nu
mbly out the door. I find Blaine sitting the hallway. His head rises as the door opens, the screams emerging from the soundproof chamber. I quickly pull the door shut before the agent can look inside.
“You made the right choice in leaving,” London informs him under his breath. “I wish I’d been as smart. There are some things a man can’t…unsee.”
Shrugging, I lead them down the hall to a break room, where I reach into the cabinet for a bottle of liquor and pass it to London.
“Anyone want food?” I ask, peering into the refrigerator.
Silence.
London gags. “How…how could you eat after that?”
“The same way I usually do. By putting food in my mouth.” I grab an apple and start to munch on it as I relax.
“You guys may not want to stick around for round two,” I tell Mel and London around a mouthful.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” London lays his head down on the table, resigned.
“What happened in there?” Blaine asks.
“You don’t want to know,” London responds.
“Don’t be a baby.” What I did to Alftripson was far from the worst I could have done. It’s not as bad as what was done to me decades ago, when I was taken hostage. Not even fucking close.
I finish my apple, pushing away the thought. That past no longer concerns me. I turn to leave the room.
“I’ll be back as soon as I get some more information. It shouldn’t take long.” No one replies.
I shrug before making my way back to the office. I open the door, and it’s silent. That’s strange. I’d expect whimpering from the wolf at the very least. I close the door behind me and look over to find Alftripson unmoving, asleep.