by Jaye Wells
“Calm yourself,” my grandmother snapped. “We don’t know where he went.”
When Slade failed to reappear the night before, I’d spent the first hour in denial. Traffic, I’d reasoned. By the third hour, I’d paced a trough in my floor. By sunrise, after several unanswered phone messages, I’d gone into panic mode. What if something happened to him? Every now and then, even good assassins lost their luck and fell under the gun of a pissed-off friend or relative.
I’d called the Dominae headquarters just before sunrise, hoping they’d heard something. Tanith informed me Slade had come by to collect the payment as expected. She hadn’t heard from him since, she said—not to worry.
After a sleepless day, my phone rang at about seven that night. I’d rushed to answer, convinced Slade was calling to explain. Instead, my grandmother commanded me to report to the compound ASAP. I’d driven over with dread pooling in my gut like tar.
When I arrived, my grandmother told me what they thought might have happened to Slade. I couldn’t believe it.
“After you called last night, Tanith sent someone to check Slade’s house. The signs of a hasty departure were unmistakable.”
“But we don’t know for sure he ran,” I said, hating the desperate hope in my tone. “Maybe someone kidnapped him.”
Tanith shook her head. “He also left this.” She slid a note across the desk. As I read the letter, my dread morphed into black rage.
The note was addressed to the Dominae. The content was short and to the point: “I can’t do this anymore.”
“How could he just disappear like that? Surely someone knows where he went,” I said.
Tanith shook her head. “Sabina, Slade is one of our best assassins. He knows how to disappear when he wants to. He has more than a full night’s head start, and for all we know, he’s been planning this for a while.”
I closed my eyes. I’d been so stupid. A foolish girl blinded by hero worship and eagerness to please. On that first night, Slade had said he had a lot riding on this mission. I saw now that he’d been planning to leave before I even entered the picture. He’d played me for three days, allowing me to think we were a team, when the truth was I was a pawn in his plan to cut and run.
He’d mentioned not seeing eye to eye with the Dominae. And when I’d asked him if he regretted killing anyone, he’d clammed up. Then there was the way he didn’t get the job done with Zeke.
“Oh, shit,” I said as the rest became clear.
“What?”
“Does Slade ever use guns?”
Tanith and Lavinia shared a confused glance. “Of course. He’s an excellent marksman. Why?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “He told me he didn’t like to use guns. He only carried stakes when we were together.”
“That makes no sense,” Tanith said.
“It makes perfect sense. Last night, he deliberately missed Zeke twice. He all but forced me to carry out the kill.”
“Why would he do that?” Lavinia asked.
“Don’t you see? Slade lost his edge. That’s why he ran. He said he couldn’t take it any more.” I held up the note. “He used me to kill Zeke so he could collect the money and run.”
“Wait—you made the kill?” Lavinia said. “Slade told me you froze and he had to finish the job.”
Before this little revelation, I’d been hot with anger. Now, the blood in my veins became an ice floe. “Did he? And I’m sure you bought that, didn’t you? Easier to believe I choked than to believe that Slade was playing you all for fools!”
“That’s enough!” Lavinia yelled.
“You’re right. It is enough. I will not be punished for Slade’s choices. I carried out the mission as instructed. I want you to clear me for solitary kills.” I thought about asking them to pay me, but that didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t going to let Slade’s duplicity screw me out of my chance to be a real assassin.
My grandmother stared me down with black eyes. I didn’t flinch—didn’t give her a hint of weakness to use as an excuse to deny me. Finally, she lowered her chin. “Fine. But you must promise to speak to no one about Slade’s desertion. Is that clear?”
I jerked a nod. “Crystal.”
“I’d hoped working with Slade would teach you lessons about how to be a good assassin,” Tanith said, shaking her head.
“Don’t worry, Domina. The lesson Slade taught me was much more valuable than any he could have planned.”
“And what might that be?” Lavinia said.
I shook my head and turned to go. They allowed me to leave without comment. But as I walked out of the room and saw the hostile faces of the Undercouncil, and those other vampires who saw me as nothing more than a mixed-blood, the lesson echoed through my head.
I’ll always be better off alone.
By the time I got home, my indignation had burned off, leaving the suffocating smoke of melancholy behind. I got out of my car and dragged my sorry ass up the sidewalk with my head hung low. It wasn’t until I was almost on the porch that the feeling struck me that I was being watched.
I froze and looked around. The street was deserted and I didn’t detect any life among the tall trees surrounding the house. A noise came from the shadows of the porch. I flicked my gaze in the direction. A small, traitorous part of my mind hoped to find Slade standing there. Instead, a pair of tiny eyes flashed from the darkness.
Hisss!
I blew out my breath and let my shoulders sag. “Oh, it’s you.” I stepped onto the porch, where Satan was sitting on my doormat.
The cat’s head tilted. “Meow.”
“Don’t try apologizing. It’s not going to work.” I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door without looking at the furball. When I pushed the door in, I held out a foot to block the cat’s entrance. It hissed and scratched at my boots. With a sigh, I grabbed Satan by the scruff of its neck.
Looking into the cat’s eyes, I hardened my heart. It would be so easy to let the cat back inside. But I knew it was only a matter of time before Satan escaped again. I shook my head. No, better to end this now. I didn’t have room in my life for anyone or anything. Certainly not for an ungrateful beast who shit all over my life before running away. “It’s over, Satan,” I said. “Don’t come back.”
I walked to the edge of the porch and set him below the step. The cat fell back on its butt and meowed up at me. I put my hands on my hips. “Go! Get out of here.”
I flashed my fangs and hissed. The cat’s hackles rose and he hissed before streaking toward the treeline.
After Satan was gone, I allowed myself deflate. Going inside, I dropped my stuff on the floor and locked the door behind me. I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes. Silence surrounded me, pressing in on my skin.
Alone.
I told myself it was better this way. Life was a lot easier when you didn’t trust anyone. Simpler. Simple was good. I looked around at the ruined sofa and the shit stains on my living room rug. I’d learned the hard way that opening myself up to trusting others was messy.
Pushing off the door, I went into my kitchen for a beer. I pulled back the tab and drank deeply. But the carbonation couldn’t wash away the bitter taste on my tongue. When I lowered the beer, my gaze landed on the bag of cat food and the shiny bowls I’d bought for Satan.
I pursed my lips and tried to decide what to do with all the gear I’d bought. I could throw them away. But right then, an image of Satan with its hackles up rose in my mind. I thought about the notch out of its ear from fighting. I thought about the matted hair and the aggression. No wonder Satan had been so angry. The cat never found anyone it could trust, either.
My decision made, I filled one bowl with food and the other with water. Before I could second-guess myself, I snuck out the front door and stashed the food in the far corner of my porch. Then I went back inside, locked the door, and stood at the window.
Fifteen minutes later, an orange-tinted shadow appeared on the porch. Satan’s steps were ca
utious. I held my breath and peeked through a miniscule slit in the blinds. The cat glanced at the door, as if expecting a trick. When I didn’t jump out at it, it took a few more steps toward the food.
Then after a good long while, Satan reached the bowl, sniffed it experimentally, and then lost its battle against caution. The cat dove face first into the food and chowed down.
Smiling, I closed the blinds and left the cat to its feast.
I told myself that the food was just a peace offering. An apology of sorts for scaring the little shit earlier. But deep down, I knew I’d keep refilling that bowl as long as Satan kept appearing to eat it.
However, I’d never ever invite the cat into my house again. My life didn’t have room for pets. As it turned out, Slade Corbin had taught me a valuable lesson, after all: Caring made you vulnerable.
Besides, I thought, turning out the lights, cats were the kind of pets mages kept. I chuckled at the thought. The day I started acting like a freaking mancy would be the day I summoned a demon to stake me in the heart with applewood.
Meet the Author
Jaye Wells is a USA Today–bestselling author of urban fantasy and speculative crime fiction. Raised by booksellers, she loved reading books from a very young age. That gateway drug eventually led to a full-blown writing addiction. When she’s not chasing the word-dragon, she loves to travel, drink good bourbon, and do things that scare her so she can put them in her books. She lives in Texas. Find out more about Jaye Wells at www.jayewells.com.
Photo Credit: On Location Portraiture
By Jaye Wells
PROSPERO’S WAR
Dirty Magic
Cursed Moon
Deadly Spells
PROSPERO’S WAR SHORT FICTION
Fire Water
SABINA KANE
Red-Headed Stepchild
The Mage in Black
Green-Eyed Demon
Silver-Tongued Devil
Blue-Blooded Vamp
SABINA KANE SHORT FICTION
Violet Tendencies
Rusted Veins
Fool’s Gold
If you enjoyed
FOOL'S GOLD,
look out for
DIRTY MAGIC
PROSPERO'S WAR: BOOK ONE
by Jaye Wells
MAGIC IS A DRUG. CAREFUL HOW YOU USE IT.
The Magical Enforcement Agency keeps dirty magic off the streets, but there’s a new blend out there that’s as deadly as it is elusive. When patrol cop Kate Prospero shoots the lead snitch in this crucial case, she’s brought in to explain herself. But the more she learns about the investigation, the more she realizes she must secure a spot on the MEA task force.
Especially when she discovers that their lead suspect is the man she walked away from ten years earlier—on the same day she swore she’d given up dirty magic for good. Kate Prospero’s about to learn the hard way that crossing a wizard will always get you burned and that when it comes to magic, you should never say never.
Chapter One
It was just another fucked-up night in the Cauldron. Potion junkies huddled in shadowy corners with their ampules and pipes and needles. The occasional flick of a lighter’s flame illuminated their dirty, desperate faces, and the air sizzled with the ozone scent of spent magic.
I considered stopping to harass them. Arrest them for loitering and possession of illegal arcane substances. But they’d just be back on the street in a couple of days or be replaced by another dirty, desperate face looking to escape the Mundane world.
Besides, these hard cases weren’t my real targets. To make a dent, you had to go after the runners and stash boys, the potion cookers—the money men. The way I figured, better to hunt the vipers instead of the ’hood rats who craved the bite of their fangs. But for the last couple of weeks, the corner thugs had been laying low, staying off the streets after dark. My instincts were tingling, though, so I kept walking the beat, hoping to find a prize.
Near Canal Street, growls rolled out of a pitch-black alley. I stilled and listened with my hand on my hawthorn-wood nightstick. The sounds were like a feral dog protecting a particularly juicy bone. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and my nostrils twitched from the coppery bite of blood.
Approaching slowly, I removed the flashlight from my belt. The light illuminated about ten feet into the alley’s dark throat. On the nearest wall, a graffiti-ed dragon marked the spot as Sanguinarian Coven’s turf. But I already knew the east side of town belonged to the Sangs. That’s one of the reasons I’d requested it for patrol. I didn’t dare show my face on the Votary’s west-side territory.
Something moved in the shadows, just outside of the light’s halo. A loud slurping sound. A wet moan.
“Babylon PD!” I called, taking a few cautious steps forward. The stink of blood intensified. “Come out with your hands up!”
The scuttling sound of feet against trash. Another growl, but no response to my order.
Three more steps expanded my field of vision. The light flared on the source of the horrible sounds and the unsettling scents.
A gaunt figure huddled over the prone form of a woman. Wet, stringy hair shielded her face, and every inch of her exposed skin glistened red with blood. My gun was in my hand faster than I could yell, “Freeze!”
Still partially in shadow, the attacker—male judging from the size—swung around. I had the impression of glinty yellow eyes and shaggy hair matted with blood.
“Step away with your hands up,” I commanded, my voice projected to make it a demand instead of a suggestion.
“Fuck you, bitch,” the male barked. And then he bolted.
“Shit!” I ran to the woman and felt for a pulse. I shouldn’t have been relieved not to find one, but it meant I was free to pursue the asshole who’d killed her.
My leg muscles burned and my heart raced. Through the radio on my shoulder I called dispatch.
“Go ahead, Officer Prospero,” the dispatcher’s voice crackled through the radio.
“Be advised I need an ambulance sent to the alley off Canal and Elm. Interrupted a code 27. Victim had no pulse. I’m pursuing the perp on foot bearing east on Canal.”
“Ambulance is on its way. Backup unit will be there in five minutes. Keep us advised of your 20.”
“10-4.” I took my finger off the comm button. “Shit, he’s fast.” I dug in, my air coming out in puffs of vapor in the cool night air.
He was definitely freaking—a strength or speed potion, probably. But that type of magic wouldn’t explain why he mauled that woman in the alley—or those yellow predator’s eyes. I tucked that away for the moment and focused on keeping up.
The perp loped through the maze of dark alleys and streets like he knew the Cauldron well. But no one knew it better than me, and I planned to be right behind him when he finally made a mistake.
As I ran, my lead cuffs clanked heavily against the wood of my nightstick. The rhythm matched the thumping beats of my heart and the puffs of air rasping from my lungs. I had a Glock at my side, but when perps are jacked up on potions, they’re almost unstoppable with Mundane weaponry unless you deliver a fatal shot. Killing him wasn’t my goal—I wanted the notch on my arrest stats.
“Stop or I’ll salt you!” I pulled the salt flare from my left side. The best way to incapacitate a hexhead was a little of the old sodium chloride.
A loud snarling grunt echoed back over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, but he wasn’t running blind. No, he was headed someplace specific.
“Prospero,” Dispatch called through the walkie. “Backup is on its way.”
“Copy. The vic?”
“Ambulance arrived and confirmed death. M.E. is on his way to make it official.”
I looked around to get my bearings. He veered right on Mercury St. “The suspect appears to be headed for the Arteries,” I spoke into the communicator. “I’m pursuing.”
“Copy that, Officer Prospero. Be advised you are required to wait for backup before entering
the tunnels.” She told me their coordinates.
I cursed under my breath. They were still five blocks away and on foot.
A block or so up I could see one of the boarded-up gates that led down into the old subway tunnels. The system had been abandoned fifty years earlier before the project was anywhere close to completion. Now the tunnels served as a rabbit warren for potion addicts wanting to chase the black dragon in the rat-infested, shit-stench darkness.
In front of the gate, a large wooden sign announced the site as the “Future Home of the Cauldron Community Center.” Under those words was the logo for Volos Real Estate Development, which did nothing to improve my mood.
If Speedy made it through that gate, we’d never find him. The tunnels would swallow him in one gulp. My conscience suddenly sounded a lot like Captain Eldritch in my head. “Don’t be an idiot, Kate. Wait for backup.”
I hadn’t run halfway through the Cauldron only to lose the bastard to the darkness. But I knew better than to enter the tunnels alone. The captain had laid down that policy after a rookie ended up rat food five years earlier. So I wasn’t going to follow him down there, but I could still slow him down a little. Buy some time for backup to arrive.
The salt flare’s thick double barrel was preloaded with two rock salt shells. A bite from one of those puppies was rarely lethal, but it was enough to dilute the effects of most potions, as well as cause enough pain to convince perps to lay down and play dead. The only catch was, you had to be within twenty feet for the salt to interrupt the magic. The closer, the better if you want the bonus of severe skin abrasions.