Agent of Magic Box Set

by Melissa Hawke

  Did I take the offer? Even if their offer of a cure was bogus, their money wasn’t. The vampires were loaded and what they were offering could keep Cat’s care going for the rest of her natural life. Surely it wouldn’t take that much time to find out what had been done to her?

  I shoved a piece of rye bread into the toaster as I mulled it over and seized the bottle of Jack Daniels from the kitchen counter where I’d left it at dawn. Time to try a little hair of the dog. I could have probably accomplished the same thing with a Prairie Oyster, but just thinking about sliding an egg down my gullet after the night I’d had made me want to gag. My sister’s patented hangover cure had been stolen by one of the guys in customs. Bastard.

  The first pull burned going down.

  A groggy German rumble of complaint nearly made me jump. Gods above, I’d forgotten to let Horst out before I collapsed. I twisted the wristwatch off and set it on the countertop, tapping the face three times. With a muttered incantation the thing split open and a very grumpy faerie materialized on its face.

  Horst was only about the size of a spool of thread in his normal form. He had a sharp, angular face and verdant eyes. They were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and the faerie glared balefully up at me from his perch, yanking his brown cap down to shield his eyes from the dying afternoon sunlight that filtered through my dingy front window.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, tossing back another glug of whiskey. My headache had come down from horrendous to merely eye-wateringly awful.

  “You cannot go on like this, girl. You are going to kill yourself. Put the swill down and speak to me.”

  “It’s not swill,” I said defensively. “Just because it isn’t a craft beer doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

  “It is not German beer,” he sniffed. “So it is swill.”

  I sighed and seized the thick slab of rye bread from my toaster and tore a chunk from it. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not like I’ve got a lot of choices, do I? They’ve got money and a possible cure. I’d be an idiot not to take the deal.”

  “They are not to be trusted, fraulein,” he warned, leaning a tiny elbow against the bottle of Jack. “Nothing that eats its own can be.”

  I frowned. It was a difference of opinion between the Trust and the fae. We both hated the vampires. We both viewed them as abominations that should be killed. But the fae considered them an extension of us, and their feeding an act of cannibalism. We considered them separate and an entirely different species. I didn’t feel like quibbling over the semantics at the moment. I needed to get pants on and make my way to Queen’s Library and then, beyond that, Fallen Oaks, the only magical hospital on the eastern seaboard that was equipped to deal with Cat’s condition. I needed to pay them today.

  “I don’t trust them,” Horst continued. “But if what they’re saying is right, this girl needs to be killed. If this virus is completed it won’t just be the end of the wolves or the vampires. It could mean the end of me and Hal. All creatures with magical blood.”

  My stomach rolled and I nearly vomited at the thought. They weren’t much, but the little creatures were the closest thing I had to family in this world.

  “I will not accompany you,” he warned. “I do not cross the dead.”

  “Fine. Stay here. Guard Hal. And if I go, make sure Phyllis is taken care of, okay?”

  He nodded grimly. “Ja, Meister Valdez. No harm will come to her.”

  My shoulders sagged a little in relief. If a fae gave you their promise, they had to keep it. That was at least one worry gone.

  I squinted at the window. It appeared I had about three hours before dark fell and the vampires came a-knocking. Not enough time if I went the traditional route, and tried to battle my way through the push of New York traffic. Fortunately, I had friends.

  I seized the old plastic landline I’d installed for Phyllis’ use last year and dialed a number from memory.

  “Johnson speaking,” Landon barked into the phone. “Who the hell is this?”

  “It’s Valdez. I want transport in about five minutes. Is McCarty still around?”

  I don’t know how, but I could almost hear the shark-like smile in his voice.

  “I’ll fish him out of the break room.”

  “And Landon? If I take this job, I’ll need a stipend for weapons. Let Lamonia know that will be in addition to the ten mil I’m asking for the job.”

  He snorted a laugh. “They won’t be happy about it, but I’ll tell them. See you soon, Valdez.”

  He hung up and I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. I’d missed his brusque demeanor.

  Horst pursed his lips. “You ought to avoid McCarty. His kind are not to be trusted either, fraulein.”

  Horst had always warned me away from the handsome Irish mage that moonlighted as Johnson’s teleportation specialist, though he’d never gone into details why. I shrugged.

  “I don’t have to trust him. I just have to pay him. And that’s good enough for me.”

  chapter

  5

  DECLAN MCCARTY MIGHT HAVE HAD a future in modeling if nature hadn’t seen fit to make him so damned short. God and good genetics had gifted him with a strong jawline that was shaded with an attractive amount of dark stubble, a nose that was strong and unbroken–a feat in our line of work–and eyes that put one in mind of a Caribbean summer.

  He was glaring into a cup of coffee when I stumbled out of my apartment and into Johnson and Conoley’s break room. Landon kept a few lawyers on hand to keep up the façade of a reputable law office that acted as a front for his mob of sellswords. But most of the firm’s dealings were done under the table and had nothing to do with dispensing justice. He barely glanced up from his contemplation of the stuff when I managed to bang into the long conference table and knock over one of the chairs. It was one of the worst journeys I’d been on in a while, and I’d just flown coach from Europe to the States.

  “Ugh. That was horrible, McCarty. Was all that shaking necessary? I’m going to puke all over your shoes.”

  “Not on Oxford leather, you won’t,” he said, finally glancing up at me. “I hardly think you can afford to replace them.”

  I winced. I might have sent him a few really sad emails the year previously after Findlay had run off another of my leads for the cure. The agreement that Landon and his people had signed with the Trust had stipulated that I not speak with them and they not speak with me. I’d assumed he’d probably trashed them as soon as they popped into his inbox. It was a little gratifying to know that he’d taken at least a few minutes to read about my troubles even if he couldn’t do anything about them.

  How much of a commission were Landon and his people making on the deal if I took it? It had to be a generous amount, if they were willing to work with the vampires to kill a mortal girl and flagrantly disregard the Trust’s rules.

  “Something wrong with your coffee?”

  “Landon bought the cheap stuff again. Stingy bastard,” he muttered. “And to answer your question, it was shaky because someone insisted that I wake from a dead sleep, perform incredibly complex inter-dimensional magic, and do it in less than five minutes.”

  “Pansy,” I sniffed.

  He finally cracked a grin. “Missed you too, Valdez. What’s going on? I’ve heard rumors you’re coming back. Is it true?”

  I bit my lip, considering just what I ought to tell him. No, I wasn’t back in the game for good. If this all panned out, I was hanging up my wand and gun for good. I’d never fire another shot, except in self-defense. I wanted nothing more to do with this world of magic and blood after it had nearly stolen my sister away from me. Nothing good could come of it.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. But I will need your help either way.”

  Declan’s gaze softened a little around his eyes. “For you? I’ll even drop my fee.”

  My eyes pricked and I rubbed at them before they could start pour
ing tears. I was exhausted. That was the only reason I was swinging so wildly. Even so, I wrapped one arm around his waist. He was short enough that I was able to lean my head onto his shoulder with relative ease.

  “Thanks, McCarty.”

  He pushed me away and held me at arm’s length, studying my expression. “Are you okay, Valdez? The last time you cuddled up to me you were absolutely scuttered and covered in troll blood.”

  “Do you have to mention the Dublin incident every time we meet?”

  Declan smirked. “I’ll stop when it isn’t funny anymore. Where to?”

  “Queen’s library at Ridgewood first,” I said with a sigh. “And then to Fallen Oaks.”

  Declan nodded absently and cracked his knuckles. His hands were inked nearly black with tattoos. I knew from the Dublin incident that there were a lot more on his arms. From forearm to fingertips, it looked like he’d been dipped in a vat of ink. There were only a few flecks of fair skin here and there to prove that they had been as pale as the rest of him at one point.

  Most mages with Declan’s talent researched the corresponding magical sigil for the place they needed, prepared an object that would act as a bridge, and enchanted it ahead of time. Not Declan.

  Declan had dispensed with the middle step and had made himself the bridge. Apparently, he’d traveled almost every inch of the globe and had wheedled the right sigils out of the natives of almost every country in the known world. He even had links to some of the outer realms, if you had the cash to burn and the brazen stupidity it took to venture there.

  It was an energy drain, which was why most people stuck to enchanted stones. But I lauded the man’s commitment to his art. It had made him a very rich and very sought after man.

  He screwed his eyes tightly shut and a sigil no bigger than the size of a pinhead near his elbow glowed gold, pulsing light throughout the office like a strobe. Declan muttered in Gaelic and slowly, a small dot formed in midair, widening by degrees every second. In just under three minutes, there was a gap wide enough for two people to step through.

  Declan stopped muttering a few seconds later and cut his gaze over to me. “You owe me coffee after this. The good stuff.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  Declan took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before we stepped through the opening. I appreciated the human contact more than I could say. His hand was rough and sparked with magic due to the enchantments laid into his skin, but it was still more comfort than any man had given me in years. Maybe I’d give Declan a call when this was all over and see if his hands felt as magical everywhere else.

  Our surroundings blurred as we stepped through the portal and I had a moment of intense vertigo before we landed. I wobbled and nearly fell into the shelf of large print books.

  Declan caught my elbow before I could faceplant into a book about Aztec burial practices.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “You’re really off your game today, Valdez. What’s happening?”

  I drew in a deep breath through my nose and let it out slowly. I didn’t really have time to go into the whole thing. I wasn’t even sure that I was supposed to talk about this, even to Landon’s people. But he was doing me a huge solid by bringing me here and dropping his fee. So I gave him the cliff notes version.

  “I’m being slated to kill a bioterrorist in exchange for the information I need about Cat.”

  Declan’s brow ratcheted up to meet his hairline and his mouth turned down in a frown. “Sounds like a good deal. Why the long face?”

  “House Lamonia are the contractors.”

  His face hardened into stony dislike. “I see.”

  “They should have faxed the information here with instructions to hold it for me. Even if it isn’t what I’ve been searching for, the ten mil I’m requesting to do the job will cover Cat’s expenses until I can uncover the real cure.”

  Delcan’s mouth thinned into a disapproving line, but he didn’t say anything further, for which I was grateful. I was pretty sure that this job was going to be an ordeal, without the tacit disapproval of my peers. It didn’t matter that this girl was a horrid person. If what they’d told me about her was true, it didn’t feel the same as ending a vampire or a demi-human that had gone on a rampage. She was human. She had a soul. Spirit, aura, essential spark. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was a phenomenon that very little life on this planet had. And killing a human who wasn’t trying to attack me made me a little queasy. I’d do it if it came down to a choice between her and Cat, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t haunt me.

  The real rub was that I had never seen or heard of this girl, despite my connections with the magical world. She must have cropped up very recently to not have been on the Trust’s radar. Or perhaps, was on their payroll and buried so deep in the organization that even the covert ops hadn’t been made aware of her.

  Declan got an arm around my waist and escorted me to the end of the row, seeming to worry I’d tip over a shelf in my muddled state. Or maybe he cared more for me than he’d ever let on. The niggling curiosity I’d felt before surged to the fore. I’d bet that his throaty brogue would be excellent for pillow talk.

  And so was the French that Dominic had slipped into, on occasion. Nothing could make me squirm more than when Dominic had whispered something filthy to me in French. I shoved him from my mind on reflex. He didn’t get to rent space in my head after what he’d done.

  We emerged into the main lobby a minute later and made a beeline for the front desk. A woman with long red hair was squinting through a pair of glasses at her computer screen. I had to tap the desk a few times to catch her attention.

  “Hm? I’m sorry miss. Can I help you?”

  “Yeah. I was told there’d be a fax sent here for me. Natalia Valdez.”

  The woman sorted through a stack of papers under the desk and eventually emerged with a stack about as thick as my thumb. I balked. Really? All of this was just introductory material? Either the full text was the size of an encyclopedia and the spell was going to be as complicated as trying to do trigonometry on a tightrope, or the windbag who’d written it really liked to pontificate. Either way, it was going to take me a little while to sort through the pile. I’d been hoping to be up to speed before I talked with Ashby or his ilk again.

  I stowed the papers in my bag and pasted on a grateful smile for the woman’s benefit. She looked unconvinced. She probably heard enough bullshit from people who didn’t return their books to not be fooled by my insincerity. Oh well. I hadn’t reached the top of my field by being nice anyhow.

  Declan didn’t speak again until we’d stepped out into the chilly afternoon air that pressed against the doors. We needed a relatively quiet and out-of-the-way spot before Declan would risk folding space again. The general public may have gotten more accepting of magic and the supernatural of late, but that didn’t mean we wanted to rub their noses in it. Being around mages made the average vanilla human twitchy and, after all I’d done with the Trust over the years, I couldn’t blame them. Magic was rarely butterflies and rainbows.

  We walked a little less than a block, ducking into the alleyway behind a popular deli and the building that neighbored it to complete the last leg of our journey.

  “This may be a bust, but what can you tell me, if anything, about a woman named Eleanor Dawson?”

  Declan’s steps stuttered and he came to a stop. His eyes bore holes into the side of my face and he wore a look of outright hostility.

  “That’s the mark? Fucking Dawson?”

  “Yeah,” I said, surprised he’d made the leap so quickly. “Do you know who she is?”

  “I do. I’m surprised you don’t, actually. She’s pretty damn infamous.”

  I grimaced. “I’ve been cut off from all my contacts. Cut me some slack. What’s her deal?”

  “Well, she’s sharp as hell. And after she graduated with a double major in biology and chemical engineering she was conscri
pted into the CDC. Last I heard, she’d stolen a strain of lycanthropy from their vault. Not long after, that plague broke out. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she did with it.”

  His voice carried a hint of a growl, and I was suddenly a little unsure of myself. I’d never been made privy to what Declan was, beneath all of the good looks and charm. I assumed he was probably mixed with some demi-human race and that was why he’d been booted from the Trust’s offices many years ago. There was no such thing as anti-discrimination laws in the Trust. If you were found to be non-human in the first degree, you were quietly dismissed. Not that they’d ever say that was the reason, of course. But we all knew it happened.

  Now I was wondering if he hadn’t been infected with the lupine virus. It only took one or two bites to become a carrier. And if that was true, then he was breaking a lot of laws by going around uncollared. The U.S. government had deported the worst cases of the wolf plague to the Marshal Islands where it could be contained and kept away from the American populace. Any that remained were kept in quarantine zones that they claimed to be safe, well-cared for, and humane. But everyone knew how well that the government kept its promises the last time it put people into reservations.

  “Where is she?” Declan demanded. “I’ll take you there now. I’ll help.”

  I placed a gentle, restraining hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from my touch on reflex, snarling a little. I backed away a step. If he was a wolf, I didn’t want him to bite me in a rage.

  “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’m not carrying out this job for free. Give me a day or two and I might be in touch.”

  Fury still radiated off Declan in waves, and it was making my aura itch to be near him. Just because Declan’s talent wasn’t overtly offensive in nature, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t be dangerous. He could drop someone in the middle of Antarctica or into an active volcano if he was pissed.