by Devon Monk
Now that he was gone, a tight ball of rage knotted like a fist in the middle of my chest. Death magic was hungry.
Maybe it was time to settle the bill and get the hell away from this place. Away from all these lovely living people.
While we’d been talking, day had stumbled into night. The pub was filled to the walls. I made my way between people standing and yelling to be heard over the noise of the place, and paused by the table.
A woman was lounging in Terric’s seat, arm over the back of the chair, ankle resting on her knee. Knockout pretty. Blue eyes like clear mountain skies, and a soft, full mouth. Her hair spilled down to her shoulders in waves, framing the porcelain white of her skin. Slender build in a tight T-shirt and jeans. My heart, which had been missing for years, kicked over and began beating for the first time.
It wasn’t a come-hither gaze she was holding me with—just an even stare with a glimmer of mischief—but it might as well have been.
I didn’t know her, but I recognized her. Last time I’d seen her, she had a sniper’s rifle in her hands.
“Buy you a drink?” she asked.
I could say no, but there was fresh shot of whiskey already next to my three empty shot glasses. She had a drink too, an Old-Fashioned. All the money Terric had left behind was right where he’d tossed it.
Eleanor was shaking her head and doing some kind of football signal for missed goal.
But there was something about this woman that made me want to say yes for a change. I tugged the chair away from the table and sat.
“So. Is this your first time in Portland?” I asked.
She smiled a bit. “Why? Does it show?”
“Not at all. Visiting friends? Enemies?”
“I’m still undecided on that. My name’s Dessa.”
“I’m Shamus.”
“I know.”
I grinned. “Wondered if we were going to dance around that or not. Are you going to tell me why you want me dead?”
She caught her breath. Then leaned forward just a bit. “Did I say I wanted you dead, Mr. Flynn?”
“No. But that rifle on the rooftop? Kind of a giveaway.”
She took a drink to cover her surprise. Huh. So she didn’t think I’d spotted her. I guess I had the slacker/loser/oblivious-of-the-world act down pretty tight.
“You’re still breathing, though, aren’t you?”
“Apparently,” I said. “Why is that, exactly?”
“I don’t want you dead yet.”
“Comforting. What do you want?”
“A little time.”
A young couple were making their way through the crowd toward the door. The woman was carrying a baby. Just before she got to our table, she sidestepped a man taking off his coat, and a little stuffed toy tumbled to the floor.
Dessa glanced over, spotted the lost toy, saw the woman and baby moving on. She glanced at me, then at the woman’s retreating back.
These kinds of situations were always telling. A woman on the prowl would ignore the whole thing. A woman on a job to get information would ignore it too.
And Dessa . . .
“Hold on.” She stepped out and picked up the toy—a purple turtle—then caught up with the couple and handed it to the thankful mother. She even took a minute to smile at the baby before noticing I was watching her, and walking back my way.
Looked like my assassin had a heart.
“Do you always rescue things in need?” I asked as she sat back down.
She shrugged. “Only when I find them lost and alone in bars.”
Touché.
“So you wanted time,” I said.
“Yes. I want to make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“You help me, I help you.”
“Go on.”
“I’m looking for a man. A magic user. I want you to help me find him. And kill him.”
Matter-of-fact. Clear. To the point. But her tone had gone too careful. Too even. Hiding her heartbeat, the race of adrenaline. She didn’t just want the man dead, she wanted revenge.
“What did he do to you?”
“He killed my brother.”
I let that settle between us. “I’m not an assassin,” I said.
“You could be.”
“I could be a lot of things. Have you tried the right side of the law?”
“Do you think there is a right side?” She paused for a minute, stirring the ice in her drink.
I just wanted to watch her eyes, her mouth, the way she pushed her hair back so the side of her neck was bare. Thoughts I hadn’t had in a long time stretched out in me.
“I’ve been . . . involved in that side of the law,” she said. “I’ve even worked for that side of the law. And I know my brother’s killer won’t ever be put in jail.”
“Why?”
“He has protection. Government protection.”
“What are they protecting him from? You?”
She smiled again, and I glanced away so I wouldn’t be caught by the warmth of it. “No.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m flattered. But there just isn’t anything in this for me. I’m not seeing why I should get involved.”
“I’ll help you with your problem.” She took another drink and waited.
“And what, exactly,” I said, leaning forward so that our hands nearly brushed, “do you think my problem is?”
She swallowed and had to look away before she could hold my gaze again. “I have information about the government and Soul Complements. Names of the people involved. Information that can keep you alive.”
“You assume I want to stay alive. Maybe you’ve got me wrong.”
The corner of her mouth pulled up and she tipped her head so that a curl of hair slid gently across her cheek and neck. Red against white, like blood on snow.
I clenched my fingers so I didn’t reach up and draw her hair back into place.
“If death is what you want,” she said, “I can give you that too. It will be fast. It will be clean, and it will be glorious.”
She had my full, unbroken attention.
She was not kidding. Her iceberg blue eyes were as steady as if she were looking at me through a sniper’s scope, finger on the trigger. No emotion. Just the sweet promise of death.
Would it be wrong of me to think that at that moment, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen?
Here’s the thing. I knew what my future would be. No matter how I cut it, death, my death, was always the card on top. I’d always figured Zayvion would be the one to pull the trigger. But I hated what it would do to him and Allie. They’d carry the guilt of my death for the rest of their life. Because they are like that.
But here, now, this woman—this gorgeous and, yes, kind woman—was a solution I hadn’t considered. I could make a deal with her, and she could make my death look like an accident. No one would carry the guilt. Not Zay, not Allie, not Terric, not my mum. No one would have to know the truth.
“Glorious, eh?” I asked.
“Unforgettable.”
“How about accidental?”
“It can be arranged.”
“So you’re offering my life—or my death—if I help you find a guy and kill him.”
“That’s the deal.”
Tempting. Dangerously so.
I leaned back, lacing my fingers together just behind the shot she’d bought me that I still hadn’t touched.
“Why can’t you kill him? I’ll buy that you might need help finding someone. It’s less likely you think I’m the one who can track him down—plenty of better trackers in this town. But what I’m really having a hard time believing is that you need help killing. Anyone.”
“He’s different.”
“How?”
She shook her head. “You agree to help, I tell you. You don’t, then I’m gone.”
I thought it over. Several things made this seem like a good idea. One: she was hot and had stirred feelings, and a need, I hadn’t had in a l
ong, long time. Two: she had information that might keep Terric, Zay, Allie, and the rest of the Soul Complements safe. Which meant it was possible she either worked for the government or worked against them. Three: did I mention she was hot? Four: that kill-you thing she offered was a pretty sweet way to deal with my ultimate dilemma—my problem, as she called it.
It would, however, be insane to commit to a revenge that I didn’t give a damn about.
It would not, on the other hand, be the most insane thing I’d ever done.
“No,” I said.
It surprised her and she didn’t bother to cover it up. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
She pulled her hair back with both hands and let it cascade back into place. “We would have made a hell of a team,” she said.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Was it the glorious death that turned you off?”
“No. I thought that was a nice touch.”
She smiled. “Well, then. To happy endings.” She held up her drink and I picked up the shot.
Touched the edge of my glass to hers. “To endings, happy or otherwise.”
She nodded, then took a long drink.
I slammed back the whiskey, enjoying every moment of the burn. I only wished it were enough to put out the fire she’d started in me.
A slightly sweet aftertaste coated my throat. I wondered which brand she’d ordered.
“Now that business is out of the way, care to stay for a couple drinks?” I asked.
“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”
“I thought I’d unpack my boyish charms and try my hand at seducing you.”
And the smile she gave me.
It lit up her face. She was, I realized, the kind of woman who knew how to laugh. Who was probably gentle to small animals, and kind to old people. Behind her mask, she was vibrant. Alive.
I wanted that.
“First,” she said, “don’t tell a woman you’re going to try to seduce her.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s fair. Relationships are much more fun when . . .” The pub spun to the left and I braced my hand on the table edge so I didn’t slap it with my face.
“That’s not right,” I mumbled.
Dessa leaned forward. “Second, don’t accept drinks from strange women.”
“What?”
“Well, look at that,” she said. “Your boyish charms are working. I’m just all wobbly in the knees and so are you. Why don’t you come home with me, kitten?”
“Kitten?”
And before I could make any damn sense of that, she was next to me, then standing with me. Her arm was surprisingly strong around my waist, and I wanted like mad to pull her into me. But the pub was coming in and out of focus as I blinked, and the only thing that convinced me I was walking was that the place was moving past me.
“Spiked my drink,” I said.
Now we were standing outside.
“Yes, I did.”
“Naughty girl.”
She sighed. We were moving again. Around the corner. “I am sorry about this. You could have just agreed. It would have been easier.”
“You knew I wouldn’t. Otherwise why spike the shot?”
“I wasn’t sure I could be convincing enough. One thing you need to know about me, Shamus Flynn? I never give up.”
I would have told her the one thing she should know about me is I never do things the easy way, but the world was a blender of light and darkness. I didn’t know what she’d dropped in my drink, but it was not a drug or magic I was familiar with.
That worried me.
Could I use magic to get myself out of this? Sure, if I could concentrate long enough to trace the glyph of a spell.
So: no.
Could I just drain down her life?
Strangely, and really, most frighteningly of all, I couldn’t even think straight enough to do that. That drink had pushed magic—even Death magic—way out of my reach.
“Here we are,” she said. “You can just relax. Lie down. Let me take care of everything.”
“I don’t even know your last name,” I mumbled. I thought she was easing me into the back of her car. I was pretty sure I heard a car door open.
But I’d gotten that wrong too.
She’d popped the trunk. And gave me a shove down into it.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I laughed as the world spun and shook.
“No. I am completely serious about this. Deadly, even.”
She leaned above me, her lips slightly open as she adjusted something near my head. And all I could think of was I should kiss that woman.
What can I say? I like a woman who can surprise me. She’d certainly done that.
Too bad I couldn’t move.
“You should be comfortable,” she was saying. “And don’t even think about using magic. It won’t work.”
Too late. I was already thinking about it. But that was about all I was doing. Because the lumpiness I was lying on wasn’t the spare tire and crowbar. It was Void stones. As a matter of fact, the entire trunk was lined with them, completely canceling my ability to draw on magic.
The woman knew how to plan ahead. I wondered if she’d lined the top of the trunk too.
“I’d tell you to get some sleep,” she said. “But this is going to be a bumpy ride, so just try not to get a concussion.”
As the trunk slammed shut, I noted that yes indeed. The inside of the lid was lined with Void stones too.
Damn. I really should have kissed her.
Chapter 8
Here’s where I act the hero and do something smart, like call someone. Or do something brave, like kick out the trunk. Or come up with a sneaky plan, like find the biggest Void stone so I could brain the bitch.
Instead I got nauseated and unconscious. In that order.
I came to no longer in the trunk. I had no memory of walking or of her dragging me. But somehow she had managed to get me into a motel room and strap me down to a chair.
This was so not how I had imagined spending the night with her. Well, not the first night, anyway.
She was pacing. It was the thump, thump of her flat bootheels on the carpet that had brought me awake.
Thump, thump, pause.
“You are a very bad girl,” I said. It came out a little ragged. Whatever she’d poisoned me with had done some damage to my throat on the way down.
“You do make me want to do bad things to you.” Her fingers drew across my shoulders and even though I was still clothed, I felt it like a lick of heat that made me shudder with need.
No fair. Focus, Flynn. She doesn’t mean those kinds of bad things.
“Aren’t you the sweetest?” I said. “How about you give a guy back some feeling in his hands?”
She finally walked around from behind me.
She was wearing a red satin bra and panties. And her combat boots.
And nothing else.
Well, a smile.
Holy shit. Maybe she did mean those kinds of bad things.
Please let her mean those bad things.
She turned so I could get a good look at her ass too. Lordy. Someone spent time in the gym. Or chasing after her brother’s killer. I hear revenge is a great full-body workout.
She turned back to me. With guns in her hands.
“There’s some mixed signals,” I said.
“This,” she said, “is to get your attention. How am I doing so far?” She bent at the waist so I got a good eyeful of her guns.
She pressed her hands on her hips. Had a Glock in each hand.
I wasn’t sure which guns I was supposed to be looking at.
I gave her my best Flynn smile. “I like where this is going.”
She straightened and I made an effort to pull my gaze up from her panties, her flat stomach, the birthmark just over her hipbone, the curve of breasts, and all the way up to those merciless blues. Got lost in the blues for a moment or two.
“Good,” she said. “Be
cause I’m just getting started. Are you fully awake, Shamus?”
“How about you untie me so we can find out?”
She shook her head, walked across the room to a crappy table there, with an even crappier chair. Wood. Scuffed legs, no padding. Probably matched the one I was sitting on.
She lifted it, walked toward me.
“I’m going to try this one more time,” she said. “Talking you into seeing things my way.”
She turned the chair so that the back of it was toward me.
“I asked nice last time. This time I’m not going to ask so very nicely.” She spread her legs and straddled the chair.
Mercy.
Everything went white noise for a moment or two while I did what I could to put out the fire in my groin.
Don’t think of her mouth. Don’t think of her breasts. Don’t think of her thighs.
“...heard stories about the great Shamus Flynn,” she was saying.
“All true,” I interrupted. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Good,” she said. “Because I heard you killed Jingo Jingo, one of the strongest Death magic users around at the fight in St. Johns. And you single-handedly devoured six professional magic users—drained them down so there weren’t even bodies to bury. Then you took on two dead Soul Complements who tried to end the world. You came out of all of that still standing and were made into the head of the magic users in Portland.”
Okay, now she was getting specific. These were things that were only known to the Authority. Maybe she’d dug through some top secret files the FBI or CIA had set up after the apocalypse to try to make sense of the whole ancient organization of secret magic users that had been operating under their noses since before they had noses.
But what she most certainly had not done was get access to this information in any easy or legal manner.
“Who do you work for again?” I asked.
“Now, now,” she said. “That wouldn’t be any fun. First you tell me a little something I want to know. Then I’ll tell you something you want.”
Her hand slipped up her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. She licked her bottom lip and smiled.
She was so playing me.
I loved it.
However, the rope she’d tied me up with was weighted down with Void stones. While that would make it harder for me to use magic, I could still get out of the ropes if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to—yet.