Sabre

by Emma Savant

  By other options, I knew she meant Mom’s suggestion of taking my Carnelian work away from me. And that meant I had to make this new plan work.

  Grandma held out a hand, and I shook it.

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  Their eyes stayed on me as I left the room. I’d won. I’d gotten everything I’d wanted and hadn’t had to fight that hard for it.

  So why did I feel like I’d disappointed them?

  8

  It took time to get my new assignments. Over a dozen Daggers lived just at the mansion, and there were others scattered throughout the city who only joined the rest of us during coven meetings and family celebrations. Reassigning my jobs had a cascade effect on the entire schedule, and Grandma had warned me it would take a few days to sort everything out.

  And that was why I found myself a few evenings later, sitting on a rooftop across from an artisanal soda fountain and ice cream shop, bored out of my mind as I watched the business for any signs of suspicious behavior.

  The soda fountain, Straw, had only opened a few months ago and had taken Portland by storm. Lines were always out the door, and anyone who was anyone had an opinion on whether the balsamic raspberry float or the sea salt and basil Italian ice was better. I’d never been, but one of the coven Cardinals, Saffron, had brought home bottles of pineapple cream soda and a few pints of pork crackling and cranberry ice cream. They’d been good—but maybe not quite good enough to justify the lines of people I’d been watching all evening.

  Although Straw was open to Humdrums and Glimmers alike, Straw’s founder and owner, Celine Hibiscus, was a Glim. She had added plenty of faerie touches to her business, from the glitter that sparkled on the door to the bright bursts of clematis flowers that grew up one wall of the shop. Rumor was that she carried faerie dust and dragon tears under the counter, which in-the-know Glims could order if they kept their voices down.

  A few days ago, Celine had contacted Glim law enforcement to report that she thought she was being stalked. She claimed a tall man in a dark coat had been watching her from the alley whenever she closed up for the night, and that he’d been leaving strange notes wedged under the door each morning. They weren’t threatening, but they were creepy, usually things like You looked lovely yesterday and I didn’t know you had a dog.

  My mission was mind-numbingly simple: to watch for suspicious activity and report anything I saw back to the coven. I’d been sitting on this rooftop with a tiny pair of enchanted binoculars for the past three evenings, and while I’d seen plenty of men in dark coats, none of them had skulked in alleyways or seemed to follow Celine to her car. I was starting to think maybe someone had been playing a tasteless prank.

  Mom and Grandma claimed this mission was an opportunity for me to improve my powers of observation, but it was difficult to miss that I hadn’t observed anything. As far as I could tell, this gig came with no risks and no chance of anything interesting happening.

  I’d been on plenty of missions like this before. They were the sort usually given to the younger girls—the sort I’d been given before I’d been actually initiated as a Dagger.

  It was hard to forget that Sienna had been handling real missions at this point in her training. Not only had she been initiated months before me, even though I was a few months older, but she’d been dueling wizards and chasing will-o’-the-wisps within days of being named the future Stiletto. And here I was, scolding environmentalist harpies and keeping an eye on a building that seemed to hold nothing but the kinds of hipsters who were willing to stand in line for hours for fancy soda pop.

  On the bright side, assuming there was one, it did give me a chance to get ahead on my Carnelian sketches.

  I traced the line of a skirt and then added tiny texture details to the collar. A while later, I glanced at my phone. It was almost ten-thirty, and the shop closed at eleven. That made for three nights of absolutely nothing.

  I had a text notification from Alec.

  Alec: Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Hope you’re doing okay.

  Idly, I wondered if part of the reason Mom had wanted to keep me busy with smaller missions was because it meant I didn’t have as much time to check in on the wolves. Mom wasn’t exactly opposed to the werewolf compound in our backyard, not like some of the other Daggers, but I didn’t get the sense that she supported the idea, either. Mom could be hard to read; I had a feeling this was one of those times when she went along with whatever Grandma wanted and saved her energy for fights that mattered more.

  Scarlett: Still on the same job. Bored. Supposed to be getting better missions soon.

  Alec: Can you make the most of it? Is there something you could be learning from this mission?

  I’d think he’d been paid off by my grandmother if I didn’t know better. But that was just Alec’s way, to be thoughtful and ask questions and try to help.

  There was nothing that could possibly be learned from a mission like this, so I texted Brendan about how bored I was instead. His answer was almost instant and every bit as predictable as Alec’s had been.

  Brendan: Blow it. Let’s go dancing. There’s a new club downtown. You’ve never been kicked out of this one.

  For someone as serious about his responsibilities as Brendan, he never had a problem urging me to abandon mine.

  Scarlett: I’m never going to get better gigs if I can’t prove myself on this one. Nice try.

  Brendan: If you really want to prove yourself, you should swing by the den on your way home and help me destroy this chocolate cheesecake Cate just made.

  Scarlett: …… Does Cate WANT you to destroy her cheesecake?

  Brendan: I am the alpha.

  Scarlett: That’s a no, then.

  Down at Straw, one of the employees turned off the pink OPEN sign and ushered the last of the line in so he could close the door and stop it from getting any longer. I went back to sketching, glancing up now and then as people left the shop.

  Then, so subtly I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking down at exactly the right moment, a shadow shifted in the alley beside the shop. Instantly on alert, I dropped my pencil and picked up the enchanted binoculars.

  A figure was definitely standing in the alley, and it was definitely shaped like a person.

  “Gotcha,” I whispered.

  9

  I shoved my sketchpad, pencil, and the binoculars into one of the pockets of my red leather jacket. The pocket seemed to grow to accommodate the items, then shrink again so the pocket lay smooth against my waist. I flew down the fire escape on the side of my building in just a few seconds, keeping my steps light on the creaky metal, and dropped down to the ground. I pressed my body into the shadows at the side of the building and squinted across the street at the lurking figure.

  Technically, I wasn’t supposed to deal with the stalker if I found him. I was just supposed to watch and report back, and intervene if I felt like Celine was in danger.

  But the sooner I captured this guy and got some kind of confession out of him, the sooner I could move on to my next case—which, I hoped, would be a lot more interesting than this one.

  It would be too weird if I just stepped out of the alley, so I went the long way, leaving via the far side of the alley and walking around the block back to Straw. I sauntered up toward the business as if I were hoping for some ice cream, then pretended to spot the dimmed OPEN sign. I checked my watch and turned back as if to leave, then darted into the alley before the shadowed figure could run.

  I had him pinned to the wall by his collar in an instant.

  It was too dark here, and I couldn’t quite see his face. The few contours that were illuminated by the lights out on the street were familiar, but not so familiar that I could place the man.

  He held both hands up, and I tightened my grip. His coat was a beautiful merino wool; the texture under my fingers was easy to identify from hours going over Carnelian’s fabric stores.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said.

 
“Let me go.”

  His voice was smooth and devoid of fear. He put one of his hands on my wrist and rested it there without trying to pull my hand away.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  He ran a finger gently across my wrist. The slight tickle made my skin crawl, and I shoved him harder against the wall.

  He didn’t seem fazed.

  “My business is my own.”

  “You’re not minding your own business very well,” I said. “You’re creeping out the nice lady who works here. You want to tell me why you keep following her around?”

  I froze and waited. A confession would be enough to justify my bringing him in, and bringing him in would mean this job was done and follow-up missions would be impossible. He smiled down at me; I caught the gleam of his teeth through the darkness.

  “Are you a friend of hers?” he said. “Or simply a very eager young vigilante?”

  “Just a concerned citizen. Why are you following Celine?”

  “She’s just so darn pretty,” he said, sweet poison lacing his words.

  “You’re hilarious. You’ve been leaving her notes, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I let go of his collar. He smoothed the lapels of his coat.

  “I have nothing to hide,” he said. “There’s no law that says I can’t admire a beautiful woman.”

  “There are laws about being a creep,” I said. “Who are you?”

  I put a hand on my dagger, which was strapped in a sheath attached to my waist.

  I wished I could see his face. I knew I recognized him from somewhere, but the clues I glimpsed in the shadows weren’t nearly enough.

  “An admirer.”

  I took a step toward him. “And what are you? Are you Glim?”

  If he wasn’t, confusion would follow the question. It always did. But this man only shifted slightly, as if he thought he might edge away.

  “Faerie?” I said, cutting off his exit.

  He stopped and laughed softly. “No.”

  “Doesn’t really matter.” I reached into my pocket for a scroll. “You’ve got a couple of options here. You can sign this agreement that will put a restraining enchantment in place and keep you away from Celine, and then you can be on your way. Or I can take you somewhere you can’t run, and you can plead your case at the next Faerie Court.”

  “I said I’m not a faerie,” he said. “Why should their queen have jurisdiction over me?”

  I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes, since that would mean taking my focus off of him.

  “Your politics aren’t my problem,” I said. “Come on, I don’t have all night. Option A or B?”

  He sighed, and I dared to imagine what it would be like to get home before the crack of dawn.

  Then he punched me across the jaw and took off.

  I swore and ran after him. His feet clicked on the pavement as he hurtled toward the end of the alley—

  Toward a brick wall.

  Thank Goddess. I had him cornered and I hadn’t even had to try. I pulled my dagger out and clenched it while I waited for him to realize he was trapped. He was barely more than a shadow down here where the street lamps didn’t reach, but I could track his movement well enough to tell he was pacing back and forth along the wall.

  “Looks like you’re stuck,” I said. “Why don’t you come on out and sign this and we can all get on with our nights?”

  He muttered something at me. I couldn’t tell what he said, but I could tell it was an insult from the sharpness of the words and the growl underneath them.

  “If you don’t sign the paper, the Faerie Court is going to be your only option,” I said.

  Even though my eyes had all but adjusted to the darkness, I didn’t have any hope of seeing the man clearly enough to be able to attack him. Instead, I focused on the sound of his footsteps as he paced along the wall. His shoes were surprisingly loud, probably from leather soles, and his coat rustled softly whenever it brushed against the brick behind him.

  I’d already wasted three days on this mission. There was no point in throwing good time after bad. I tensed and prepared to spring.

  Then I heard him move. I saw something reflective—the edge of a knife, maybe? I took a slight step back and squinted.

  No, not a knife.

  An eye, reflecting the dim light of the street back toward me. An eye that was huge, and tinted yellow, and staring at me with a predatory gleam that turned my blood to ice.

  No wonder he’d seemed familiar.

  Brendan had promised me that none of the werewolves under his protection were actively hunting, for prey or new recruits. That promise was the main thing that had persuaded Grandma to allow the pack to set up on our land.

  I was going to murder them, Brendan and the snarling werewolf in front of me both.

  The giant wolf sprang at the same moment I dodged to the side. He galloped down the length of the alley and looked back at me, his muscled silhouette black against the light from the street.

  I’d expected him to run. Now that I was the one who was cornered, though, the idea didn’t seem to hold much appeal. He turned and stalked toward me, back low and shoulder blades slicing the air as he moved.

  I held up my dagger. He had weaknesses; all wolves did. The silver blade of my weapon would help, and his eyes were vulnerable. So was his throat, given that he was almost as tall as me when he was on all fours; I could reach it with a well-timed crouch.

  The werewolf sprang, and I ran forward and skidded underneath his massive body. Fur covered my face, and a musky scent filled my nose. The moment I was clear of his tail, I whirled and buried my knife in his leg.

  He turned on me, and I realized with a jolt that I was trapped between the wall and the exit and totally outgunned. He was huge, he could run faster than me, and I had no way to call for help. Aside from the metal dagger charm that lay under my shirt, anyway, that the coven used to communicate when phones weren’t convenient.

  Calling for help now wouldn’t help. No one could possibly get to me in time.

  Unless, of course, someone was babysitting me nearby. And if that was the case, I didn’t want to know.

  I pulled my wand from my jacket and used it to direct a jet of fire at him, sustaining the blast long enough that the smell of singed fur filled the air. He dove to the ground and rolled to put the flames out, which gave me the chance to jump toward his belly. My dagger had barely nicked his skin before he swatted at me with a giant paw and sent me crashing to the wall.

  My head spun from the impact, but I leaped to my feet anyway. I turned to face him, realizing too late that I was cornered, again, and he was approaching me and close enough to block out all the light from the street.

  I went to lift my wand, but it had been knocked from my hand when I’d fallen. My outstretched dagger alone was nothing against the hulking monster before me.

  I couldn’t see his face, but the heat of his breath rushed against my face. He growled, the sound low in his throat and so deep it resonated in my bones.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I said, keeping him at arm’s length with my blade.

  It was an empty threat, but my voice was strong, and my hand stayed steady. I was going to die here, the most short-lived of all the Stilettos.

  I only had one card left to play.

  “Your alpha is going to be pissed if he finds out you hurt me,” I said.

  The wolf barked out a rough noise that sounded almost like a laugh. My arm jolted as he swiped my arm with his huge snout, and my dagger clattered to the ground.

  I held my breath as his hot exhale stirred my hair. He leaned toward me, and I braced myself for the pain of a bite or the shock of one of his paws throwing me to the ground.

  He opened his mouth next to my ear. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear the sickly wet sound of his mouth and smell the sharpness of his breath.

  Then he licked me slowly across the cheek. His slimy tongue smeared saliva across my face, and I crin
ged and twisted away.

  He growled, backed up, turned, and ran the length of the alley. He was gone before I dared breathe in again.

  10

  “He was giving me a warning,” I shouted. I slammed my hand down on the table in the wolves’ newly constructed dining area and leaned in toward Brendan. “I told him his alpha would be pissed, and he gave me a warning and let me go.”

  “None of my wolves would do that,” Brendan said.

  His face was red, and I could tell he was trying to rein in his temper—badly, almost as badly as I was reining in mine.

  “You think so, clearly,” I said. “And it’s nice that you’re such an idealist, but he would have murdered me if I hadn’t threatened him with you, because the almighty alpha is apparently the only thing a werewolf respects.”

  “My pack doesn’t hunt people,” Brendan snapped.

  “Because you have rules,” I said. “So you’ve said. But you seem to be forgetting that you also have werewolves, and werewolves have instincts. Of course instincts got the better of this guy. He’s a predator. For all I know, he wasn’t even stalking the faerie, he was just waiting in a convenient location for prey and teasing her to keep himself entertained while he waited.”

  Brendan opened and closed his mouth a few times but couldn’t seem to form actual words. The light from the oil lamps they were using in the dining room until they installed their generator flickered across his face.

  “Well?” I said. “How else do you explain that he backed off the instant I mentioned you? Aside from the disgusting licking thing?”

  I could still feel the saliva on my cheek, even though I’d washed the dried spittle off the instant I’d gotten back to the mansion.

  To my right, Alec shifted in his seat at the table.

  “Did you actually use his name?” he said.

  “What?”

  “His name,” Alec said. “Did you say ‘Brendan Wildwood’ or just ‘the alpha’?”

  My rage didn’t want to be interrupted with calm, logical questions right now, but I gripped the table and tried to think.