by H. D. Gordon
“Thought you got out of my long, awkward embraces this time, didn’t you?” she mumbled as she squeezed me between her arms.
Once she’d released me, I straightened my jacket again and frowned at her, which only made her laugh more.
“Come on, then, grumpy pants,” Kyra teased. “Come see what ya girl got done.”
Kyra led me through the fields of lavender wheat, across a small stream, and down a path that ran parallel to the foot of the mountain.
I knew from my time spent with Kyra that she was leading me away from the small settlement of magic users near the base, and as we wandered further and further down the pass, it was again apparent to me that this was indeed the right spot for our little operation.
“The best part,” Kyra told me, “is that the Seers won’t be able to detect any use of unsanctioned magic from inside. The thick rock of the mountain blocks out their abilities.”
I smiled at my friend, knowing that there had been times in her life when suppressing the use of her magic to abide by the law had nearly driven her mad. “I suppose you intend to take every advantage of that little feature,” I said.
Kyra grinned at me, her purple eyes gleaming. “You bet your furry little ass I do,” she replied.
The space was cold and dark, forever shadowed from the full force of the sun by the towering, jagged peaks overhead, and the ground was little more than crumbled rock, infertile and barren. On top of the visual cues that few ever passed through here, there was the lack of individual scents that always lingered in areas that hosted people. Both my eyes and my nose were sure of the secluded nature of the place.
Which was good. Perfect, actually.
We passed beneath an overhang and wound around a bend. After a few more steps, we came to a wall of seemingly solid rock.
I looked over at Kyra, eyebrows raised.
“Who’s the baddest Sorceress you know?” she asked, white teeth gleaming with her grin.
“You’re the only Sorceress I know,” I replied drolly.
Kyra shrugged. “Same thing,” she said, and waved a hand in the air over the solid surface of the rock wall before us.
Years of practice allowed me to keep my face free of the awe that filled me every time I witnessed Kyra wield her magic, but as the air around Kyra’s hand shimmered, her fingers dancing to some rhythm I could not hear, and the rock wall shifted to reveal a dark passageway leading inside the mountain, there was no wonder about the marvel I was feeling. It was the same as the first time I’d seen her do it, and I doubted it would ever fade.
“More illegal magic for your furry ass,” Kyra joked as she brandished another ball of purple flame in her hand and led the way inside the mountain.
The passageway was just tall enough for me to walk through without crouching… and just wide enough to squeeze barrels of moonshine through. I followed Kyra and her violet flame deeper into the dark, cold rock, ignoring the discomfort of the Wolf in me.
Wolves do not like to be in tight places, and I was no exception.
Every once in a while, Kyra would glance back at me over her shoulder, and from the wicked little smile on her lips, I knew that she was aware of my discomfort, and likely found it amusing, as she did most things.
Much to my relief, however, we soon emerged from the tunnel into a large, open cavern. The ceiling was high enough that I had to crane my neck back in order to study the stalactites dripping down in pointed spears of glittering white. While I studied the space, Kyra went to a few torches she’d clearly brought in previously, and brought them to life with a couple flicks of her fingers. The purple flame cast the place in shadows, but illuminated it enough for me to get a better look at the surroundings.
Kyra waited silently beside me, watching me as I took in the details. After a moment, I let my lips pull up in a rare smile and looked over at her.
“This will do, darling,” I said. “This will do just fine.”
Kyra gave a mock bow. “I’m so glad you’re pleased, boss.”
I ignored her poke and wandered over to where fifty wooden barrels were lined up along the wall. “How’d you get them all here?” I asked.
Kyra shrugged. “Your handsome Wolf friend came through,” she said, referring to Jake, who would be taking care of the transportation element of the business.
Which was also what I’d been referring to this morning when I’d told him to get out of his feelings so as not to mess things up for us.
I nodded, counting to make sure that there were indeed fifty, though I was sure Kyra had already done this. Once that was done, I moved over to where the actual moonshine would be produced. Kyra trailed along beside me.
“What do you think, D?” she said. “Are they big enough?”
I approached the three metal vats, just three cylinders with open tops, each propped up on four flat rocks that were roughly the same height, so that flames could be kindled beneath.
I clapped a hand on Kyra’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “They’re big enough,” I confirmed.
Kyra held my gaze. “And the workforce?”
“Yes, well, that’s big enough, too.”
“Can they be trusted?”
“As well as anyone can be, I suppose.”
Kyra’s hand went to her hip. “That is not a good enough answer,” she said. She waved the hand she’d braced on her hip at the vats and barrels. “This shit could get us put away for life, Dita, and that’s if the law gets us before the other bootleggers do.”
I suppressed a sigh and held her gaze. “They’re former working ladies. Two Vamps, two Wolves, and one Fae. All now in my employ.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, “You’ve lost your Gods damned mind,” Kyra replied, mouth falling open.
“That’s the second time someone has told me that this morning.”
“And they were right. Who was it, a bloodsucker?”
I cocked a brow at her. “That’s a racist ass term, Ky.”
“And you’re a crazy ass fool.”
This plucked a cord within me, as Kyra was always so adept at doing, but I shoved past the urge to growl at her and made sure that my voice came out level.
“So, then, what?” I asked. “What would you rather do? You want to keep being poor your whole life? You want to keep following the rules of a system that was created to keep you in your place? How’s the cleaning business lately? You enjoying the calls to the rich magic users’ houses, where you clean up their daily messes because they can’t be bothered? Those same Sorcerers and Sorceresses who hold the monopoly on the more powerful magic, you love cleaning up their shit?”
I waved a hand toward the cave mouth. “I’m not forcing you to do anything,” I added. “So if you’re happy where you are, go on. Cleaning magic is permitted, after all. Absolutely safe. Me? I’m sick of hustling Wolfsbane just so I can barely feed my family. I want a share of that power they hoard, and you need to decide right now if you’re with me.”
A moment of silence held between us as Kyra glared at me with those big, violet eyes. I held my breath as I waited for it to break, and in typical Kyra fashion, it did so with the cackle of her laughter.
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips a touch. “You can be such a bitch sometimes, Dita,” she said at last.
“Another racial slur, my friend.”
Kyra scoffed around another laugh. “Well, if the fur fits…”
I said nothing to this, though I knew she was trying to lighten the mood between us. In the decade we’d been friends, this had always been our way. I would get utterly serious and perhaps a tad moody, and Kyra would bat away my hostility with humor. By all standard accounts—our very different races being among them—we should hate each other. But for whatever reason, the opposite was true.
Finally, Kyra grew somber and blew out a long sigh. “You know I’m with you, D,” she said. “I’m always with you… but I’m nervous, and can you blame me? I’m all about giving the middle finger to the higher
powers, those magic-hoarding Seers especially, but working with the Bordens? And now Vampires? It’s a lot to take in.”
“You’ll like the ladies,” I said. “They’ve had a rough go of it. Just like you and me.”
“Pfft. That is no guarantee I’ll like them.”
I folded my arms over my chest, growing weary with the conversation. “We’ve all got the same goals, Ky. We all gotta eat.”
Kyra scoffed again. “That is not a convincing argument when discussing Vampires, Dita.”
“There’s also a Fae.”
She rolled her violet eyes. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better. A Fae. The most untrustworthy of supernatural creatures.”
“Stereotypes. These are stereotypes.”
Kyra shook her head, her curly black hair catching the light of torch flames and shining a midnight purple. “Vampires drinking blood is not a stereotype, it’s a fact. And, anyway, stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason.”
I nodded. “Ah, I see. Like the one about all Sorceresses being snobby elitists?”
“More like the one about all Wolves being violent, ignorant beasts.”
I considered this, my head tilting in a very Wolf-like manner… And then we both burst out laughing. Getting me to do so was a quality only Kyra seemed to possess.
Reaching into my pocket, I noted the hour on my timepiece and sighed. The days always seemed to slip away in a flash. Tucking the clock back into my pocket, I inclined my head and met my friend’s purple gaze.
“What do you think, Ky? Are we good to go, then?”
Kyra nodded slowly, the absolute trust evident in her eyes. “We’re good,” she said, and paused. “And now that business is settled, you want to tell me about the blood on your jacket?”
I looked down, and resisted a small cringe when I saw that she was indeed correct. The sound of my firing revolver and the image of Ezra Ikers’ head exploding flashed through my mind, and whatever humor I’d been experiencing dried up in an instant.
“It’s rabbit,” I said. “From a hunt this morning.”
Kyra nodded. “Right. From when you were hunting in your mortal form, wearing your clothes.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s more entertaining to catch things with my hands.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Miss Silvers.”
I winked at my old friend. “Maybe,” I said. “But I’m even more terrible when I tell the truth.”
Chapter 9
By the time I made it back to Borden, the sun was setting, the gray sky darkening into a deep black, and the promise of a late night fall storm still hanging in the air.
I was dreadfully tired, could feel the exhaustion in my teeth and bones, but there were a couple more things I needed to see to before I could shuffle off in search of the reprieve of sleep.
Through the slight throbbing that was beginning to push on my temples, I made sure to stay alert as I skirted around the perimeter of the town, still in my Wolf form. I moved as silently as an evening breeze, little more than a shadow within shadows, my dark coat and soft paws the perfect predator’s arsenal.
It was a Saturday night, and most of the working people had off the next day, so The Row was particularly busy just then. The sounds of revelry floated out over the Zouri, mingling with the soft rush of the water moving downstream. I cringed internally at the strong scents of various bodies, booze, and waste that filled my sensitive nose.
When I got closer to my destination, I found a dark alley and shifted back into my mortal form. Thanks to Kyra, I didn’t have to carry around my clothes in a sack around my neck when in Wolf form, as most poor Wolves did. Years ago, she’d learned how to infuse magic into ordinary items, and the ring I now always wore on my left hand allowed me to switch between forms and summon clothes while doing so. It was a huge gift, a luxury only the wealthiest of Wolves could afford, and Kyra had given it to me as a show of gratitude for saving her life when we were children.
I toyed with the silver band around my finger as I stepped out of the shadows cast by the squat brick buildings and down the street.
Reaching into the inside pocket of my black jacket, I removed the small black notebook I kept tucked away there beside the faded picture of the fairytale town I dreamed of one day retreating to.
Inside the black notebook, all the names, addresses, descriptions, and other various bits of information I’d gathered over the years of pretty much everyone I’d ever met were listed. Flipping through a few pages, I stopped at the name Delia had given me this morning, double checked the address, and tucked the book away again.
Then, I climbed the steps to one of the more lavish buildings in Borden, and knocked on the door.
As I waited, I checked my watch. It was still early enough in the evening for my call not to be terribly rude… but late enough that the Wolf who answered did so in his finely made bedclothes.
The male who answered was perhaps twice my twenty-one years, pale-skinned (as all the wealthiest supernaturals seemed to be) and sharp eyed. He was taller than me, with wide shoulders, and the black robe he wore likely cost more than most Wolves from The Mound saw in a moon cycle.
I watched the look that came into his blue eyes as he observed me, saw him mark the light brown shade of my skin, my dark eyes and exotic features, the wild curls of my hair, and the simple but clean cut of my clothes.
“We don’t accept solicitors,” he grumbled, and went to shut the door in my face.
My boot kept the door from closing as I slid my hands into my pockets. “I’m not a solicitor, Mr. Carter,” I said.
Anger flashed behind his eyes, but he paused and opened the door anew, putting himself in the opening in an obvious effort to put a wall between me and whoever was inside. Over his wide shoulder, the sound of softly playing music drifted out, along with the smells of a fine meal and the heat of a large hearth.
“Who are you?” he asked in a hushed tone. “And what do you want?”
“Our children go to school together,” I said. “I would appreciate it if you’d have a talk with your daughter about showing compassion and kindness.”
He actually rolled his eyes and snorted. “Fuck off,” he said, and went to close the door again.
This time I didn’t put out a foot to stop him, I simply said, “Okay, but I would hate for Mrs. Carter to find out about Karen.”
I turned on my heels, my hands resting easily in my jacket pockets as I skipped down the porch steps.
My Wolf nose smelled the spike of fear from him even if my eyes didn’t get to see it cross over his smug face. I heard the click of the door as it shut behind him and he stepped out of the house.
“What did you say?” he growled in a whisper.
I paused in my tracks, wiping the small grin off my lips before I turned back. When I met his eyes, my face was as cold as a winter night. “I think you heard me,” I replied simply.
Mr. Carter’s eyes glowed Wolf-gold with the anger that flashed through him, but I simply held his gaze, unimpressed.
“How do you know about that?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door and keeping his voice low.
I lifted my shoulders once in a small shrug. “All that matters is that I know.”
His mouth fell open, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. I had spent enough time around entitled males to know when one wanted to call me all manner of filthy names, but I decided to save us both some trouble and cut him off.
“Talk to your daughter, Mr. Carter,” I said. “This is not unreasonable, nor is it a request.”
With that, I turned on my heels and was on my way.
An hour later, I finally made it back to The Mound.
Fires had been lit in barrels between the various shacks and houses, and the burning glows dotted the land as far as the eye could see in any direction. People were gathered around these blazing barrels, drinking moonshine and smoking Wolfsbane and grumbling about insignificant things.
I slipped into the scene
silently, eager to make it back to the house and get some sleep. My feet felt heavy, and the light throb at my temples had progressed into a full headache.
But it had been a very productive day, and I was still breathing, so I decided to be glad for it.
That didn’t stop me from snapping at Devon when I found him waiting up for me at home. For a moment, I considered telling him that we would discuss things in the morning, but one look at the worry on his face had me deciding otherwise.
I nodded, so that he knew I would indeed speak with him, but went to retrieve a glass of water from the jug we filled from the well a few times a day. After I’d had two full glasses, I jerked my chin toward the door so that he would follow me outside.
A moment later, we stood on the stoop before our pitiful house, the moon large and glowing above us.
Devon spoke first in my head. “What happened this morning, Dita?” he asked.
I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck, sighing. “I killed someone,” I replied.
“Yeah, I noticed. Was it necessary? Was it you or him?”
“Does it even matter?”
“Yes,” Devon said out loud, earning a glare from me. He snapped his mouth shut and spoke again telepathically. “It does matter, Dita. You know it does.”
I studied my older brother from the corner of my eyes for a moment. He really was a handsome male, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. Perhaps a bit too handsome. Too pretty.
“You ever consider the possibility that you don’t want the answers to some of your questions?” I countered.
“All the Gods damned time. But I still ask them.”
I nodded once, releasing a slow breath through my nose and slipping my hands into my pockets, my head tilting back so that I could look up at the moon.
“He said he knew,” I replied at last. “Ezra. He said he knew... About you.”
I felt my brother stiffen beside me, felt his sharp gaze snap to my face. I continued looking up at that moon.
“What are you talking about?” he asked carefully.
Now I only looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and snorted.