by Ciara Graves
“No,” I snapped.
He crossed his arms.
“What? I’ll be fine.”
“Two weeks, Mercy. It’s been two weeks. You’re not sleeping. You’re not fully healed. And you haven’t stepped foot outside since then, either.”
He had a point. I probably would’ve starved by now. Between him and Gigi, they kept my kitchen stocked with takeout, so I had something to eat when I was actually hungry. Some days, eating was a challenge. Not that it made me sick. I just wasn’t hungry. Today I was. So I emptied out the bag he brought, found a fork, and started eating the alfredo right out of the container. I was halfway through it before I realized Damian was watching me.
“Sorry. Did you want some?”
“No. All yours,” he replied. “Mercy, please, as your friend, let me take you to a doctor.”
“No doctor can make me better. You and I both know that, so stop it. And this whole acting like you really care thing is starting to piss me off, so stop that too.”
I reached around him toward the fridge, but he blocked my way.
“Move.”
“Make me.”
If he wanted to play it that way, then fine.
I lifted my hand to deck him but gasped at the sudden pain that flared up in my shoulder. I staggered backward into the counter, but Damian caught me at the last second, stopping me from falling over. Growling the whole way, he guided me back to the couch then brought me my food and a bottle of water.
“You are not fine,” he repeated.
“It’s just the curse,” I said with a shrug. Even that hurt. “Can’t do anything about it. Remember?”
As I ate, he paced around my small apartment, not saying a word.
This side of Damian was completely new to me, and it threw me off. I waited every day for him to go back to being a complete asshole, but instead, his worry for me seemed to grow.
He said nothing about the Gathered. He said nothing about bounties. There were no demands for me to get off my ass and get back to work. He came by every day to ensure I was breathing and had a pulse. That’s what he told me one day when I finally yelled at him for bothering me all the time. There’d been a flicker of something in his eyes. Regret maybe? Or another emotion I couldn’t quite read, but whatever he was hiding from me was the reason he was doing this now. The only problem was I couldn’t decide which was the real Damian. This man walking around my apartment, or the bastard I’d grown up knowing and expecting to turn me over to the Feds.
“You going to tell me yet?” I asked after I polished off the entire helping of pasta and downed my water. I curled up on one end of the couch, tugging a blanket around my shoulders. As much as I loved my full wall of windows, they were damned drafty when it got cold.
The snowfall last night had been pretty. I’d sat on the window ledge and watched it cover the city throughout the night. I’d always loved the snow. A memory tugged at my mind of playing in it with my parents, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never get the full image to come to me. I was always left feeling happy, though.
Except, last night it wasn’t my parents I’d thought of. It was a certain demon I’d been dreaming of nearly every night since we parted.
Rafael.
At first, I was glad he didn’t try to come over and see me, but then as the days passed, I grew agitated.
A few times, I almost called him but stopped myself. We’d agreed to not get close. Working together was a one-time deal. Too bad the rest of me refused to listen to my brain. Then last night, I’d been dozing, and my cell went off. I was sure I saw his name on the screen, but by the time I answered, he’d hung up.
“Mercy?”
“Hmm?” I mused.
Damian eyed me like I’d grown a second head.
“What?”
“Your eyes. They’re glowing.”
I hadn’t even felt my magic rising in me. I shut my eyes, willing it back down. The curse made it difficult, but I wasn’t in a high time of stress so why was it manifesting? “I’m alright.”
“Will you quit saying that? You’re not.”
“How about we stop talking about me and talk about you.”
He leaned against the wall, shaking his head. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Yeah, you do. You just won’t.”
“You’re already in enough danger,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to add to it, so drop it. Besides, you need to focus on getting yourself well. Nothing more.”
We stared each other down until a knock sounded at my door.
I was surprised, but Damian moved to answer it as if he’d been expecting someone.
“Who did you call?” I asked.
A quiet voice within me begged for it to be Rafael, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Damian answered the door, and Gigi bustled in wearing a neon pink winter coat and carrying her basket of herbs and potions.
“Good. You ate something today,” she said in greeting as she set her basket down and shrugged out of her coat. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I was sleeping when Damian got here,” I told her, shooting him an accusing glare.
“Don’t give me that look,” he shot back. “You’ve been lying to her about sleeping and getting better when you’re not. So yes, I called in backup. Sue me.”
Gigi pulled out a few jars of herbs, shook them a bit, then set them aside. Those were followed by a few vials filled with what looked like glowing blue worms.
She looked at me funny.
I pressed myself further into the couch.
She scoffed. “Oh, stop your worrying. You don’t eat them. You set them by your head at night when you sleep.”
“Not sure I’d be able to sleep with those things by my head.”
“They don’t bite,” she commented, then paused, her face scrunching up. “Well they do, but that’s only if you make them bite you. You’ll be okay.”
“I’m fine really. You don’t have to do all this.”
She slammed another jar of herbs down, and I swallowed back the rest of my arguments, not wanting her to cast anything on me. While she was busy sorting through her potions on the coffee table, Damian’s cell rang, and he excused himself into the hall.
“You got a truth potion in there?” I whispered.
Gigi laughed quietly. “Not happening.”
“What? Why not? I need him to tell me what he knows.”
“Nope. I’m not about to get in the middle of you two and your fighting. All I’m going to focus on is getting your ass healed.”
“I’m healed.”
“Outside, maybe,” she argued, “but not inside. You’re a mess, so let us take care of you, alright? And besides, I thought you’d enjoy this side of Damian.”
“It’s weird,” I admitted, “but it is a nice change of pace.”
“Good.” She took one more thing out of her basket and set it down. “Now, I’m leaving you herbs to help you sleep. Really sleep,” she said, pointing to three jars. “A spoonful each should do it, every night. The worms need to go by your bed, and no, I’m not kidding, and yes, I’ll know if you don’t do it. They’re dreamweavers, before you ask.”
I picked up the vial of wiggling blue worms and studied them closely. “Interesting.”
Along with the blue glow, the worms had tiny tendrils of wispy webs that pressed against the glass right where I held it.
My eyelids suddenly grew heavy, and I felt ready to fall asleep.
Gigi took the vial from me and set it on the table.
“Don’t do that for long,” she warned. “If you have too much contact with them, indirectly, you might not wake up for a few days.”
“And directly?” I asked, giving my head a hard shake.
She chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Let’s just say you’ll be dreaming for a very long time. And very deeply. You’ll lose all sense of what’s real and what’s not, and you might not wake up.”
That did not make me
feel any better.
“Right. This you’re to take once a day,” she said, holding up a green bottle. “It’ll help give you a bit of extra strength and motivation to get up and move around. Sitting on your ass all day is not helping your cause.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m leaving you plenty of herbs for tea. Brew a cup every night before you go to sleep. It’ll help relax you and clear your mind so you can sleep better. The dreamweavers will help keep you sleeping for a few good solid hours,” she said, already picking her coat back up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to help a client with ridding his house of pixies. You call me if any of this affects you weirdly.”
“How will I know?”
“Oh, you’ll know.” She hugged me then put her coat on, picked up her basket, and was gone as fast as she’d come.
Damian stepped back inside a minute later, a scowl on his face and staring at his cell. I knew that look better than I knew any other look. Someone just called him with a job, and he was debating if it was worth taking it or not.
“Well? Who was it?” I asked.
“Werewolves,” he replied. “Calling with a job for you to take.”
“And? What did you tell them?”
“I didn’t say anything yet. Mercy,” he muttered, “you have to sit this one out.”
“How about you let me be the judge of that? At least tell me what’s going on? Usually, the werewolves are peaceful. Well, most of the time.”
“You haven’t turned on the TV at all today, have you.” He picked up the remote and clicked it on, flipping to a news station and turned the volume up.
I watched as the witch reporter stood in what was clearly Sector 18, surrounded by werewolves, police, and Feds. “This is what’s happening.”
The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen declared Jaxton Sawyer, alpha of the Silver Howlers had been brutally murdered last night. They were working on details of what exactly occurred, but they believed magic was involved. As well as an outside party. The woman reported the two smaller packs claimed to have nothing to do with it, but the yelling wolves in the back—Howlers I figured—seemed to believe otherwise. It was chaos, and even as we watched the live report, the witch and cameraman man were suddenly yelled at to get back as a brawl broke out behind them. Then the live footage cut off, and we were back in the newsroom.
“Who killed him?” I asked Damian as he muted the TV.
“Don’t know, but the Nightshade Furs and Silent Eyes just put a bounty out for the real killer. They want you to figure out who did kill Jaxton and bring him or her to them, so they can prove they were not involved. There’s a war about to break out in Sector 18.”
“I’m not a private investigator.”
“No, but you should be.”
I frowned at his words.
“What? It’s a compliment, so take it. You’re damned good at tracking criminals down, and you know it.”
I did know it, but it was rare to hear him say so out loud. I glanced back to the TV screen, watching as more footage of Sector 18 was put up on screen. The place was crawling with Feds cops. For me to go there would be hard enough without being seen, but then I would have to poke around and ask a hell of a lot of questions that I could guarantee no one would want to answer. Then again why did I care if I was seen? I had a legal right to be there if I had a bounty to find. Maybe it was time I stopped hiding in the shadows and let the world see my face.
I tossed the blanket aside and went to my wardrobe on the other side of the room, dug around for my boots and a change of clothes, then made for the changing screen.
“What are you doing?” Damian demanded.
“What’s it look like? You said they want me, so I’m going.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re going to be walking into? There’s a possible war about to break out. I can’t let you go alone.”
I poked my head out around the screen. “Then come with me for a change.”
“I can’t go to Sector 18.”
“What? Scared of a few werewolves?” I teased, but when he didn’t respond, I frowned. “Damian?”
“I’m not allowed in their territory. Long story.”
“One which you’ll share.”
He shrugged. “Another time maybe, but you are not going alone. Do you hear me?”
I finished dressing in my black pants, long sleeve shirt, boots, and went for my weapons, which were laid out on the nightstand. “I can handle myself.”
“Not when you’re this weak, you can’t.” He walked over and took my sword and pistol from my hands. “Mercy, look at me. You are not doing this. The job can go to someone else.”
“You said it yourself, they asked for me.”
“And there are other bounty hunters in the state.”
“You and I both know if I don’t take this job, we’ll regret it. You for the payday and reputation and me… well, let’s just say finding someone’s ass to kick sounds very therapeutic.” I snatched at my weapons, but he simply lifted his arm over his head. “I can do this.”
“Stop trying to prove to me you’re indestructible because you’re not.”
Why did he have to be so damned irritating?
“You took a hit, and you need time to recover. There’s no shame in that.”
“Okay. Who are you and where the hell is the real Damian?” I yelled. “Make up your mind because this shift in gears is driving me crazy.”
As his face softened, I questioned every interaction we ever had, wondering if he always seemed like such a bastard because he’d been trying to so hard to put distance between us, almost like he wanted me to hate him. That only brought up the question of why he would want that?
He handed me back my weapons then scrubbed a hand down his face. “If I order you not to go, you’re going to go anyway. Aren’t you?”
“What do you think?”
It wasn’t necessarily a pride thing, seeing as I’d never turned down a bounty, ever, but if a war was going to break out, a lot of innocent people were going to die. What I’d told Rafael was true. I took down the bad guys just like he did. I’d seen enough hurt in my short life so far to stand by and do nothing when I was trained to fight. Trained to take down supes of all races.
And a small part of me sensed if there was this much strife happening in Sector 18, Rafael would end up there, too. I’d have a chance to put him behind me for good… or it would make me want him more.
“Then you’re taking someone with you,” Damian said, and I pushed any thoughts of Rafael aside.
I was tempted to argue, but then a face popped into my head. “Bowen.”
“Him? Didn’t think you two were getting on.”
I tucked my pistol in its holster and the sword at my opposite hip. “Didn’t use to, but clearly my relationship with you isn’t the only one changing these days,” I said quietly. “I’ll go to the Underground tonight, see if he’s up for a bit of an adventure.”
“Tell him he’ll get a cut of the payday.”
I smirked as I grabbed the green bottle Gigi had pointed out was good for added strength and motivation.
I took a big gulp, gagging on the disgusting thick, chunky liquid, then wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.
A burst of warmth flowed through my body, and I was more alert, ready to go do something.
“Don’t think he’ll take it, but I’ll offer it all the same,” I told Damian. “Lock up for me, would you? And let the werewolf packs know I’m taking the bounty they put on Sawyer’s murderer.”
“Not doing that until I know you have backup,” he warned. “Mercy?”
“Yeah, boss man?” I asked, turning back when I reached the door.
“For the love of god be careful. No magic if you can help it.”
His immense concern for my safety left me with nothing to say, and I walked out.
As soon as my full strength was back, I’d get him to tell me what he knew about my past.
&nbs
p; One way or another, he’d tell me everything I needed to know.
I was tired of being kept in the dark.
Chapter 4
Mercy
The night was far too cold to take the bike, but I did it anyway, not wanting to waste time walking to the Underground. I’d left my gloves at home, and by the time I parked, my fingers were numb, and my teeth chattered.
On a night like this, Shep would have a fire burning in the oversized hearth, and I planned on sitting my butt in front of it and not moving for a while. Aside from the lingering feeling of being weak, Gigi’s potion did wonders. Each step seemed to give me more energy, and by the time I reached the Wailing Siren, it was almost like I’d never overused my power at all.
The inside was busier than I expected. Everyone was crowded together at tables or the bar, talking excitedly.
I caught a few words about the recent murder. Guess that would get the Underground stirring, the murder of a werewolf alpha.
“Mercy?”
I’d been rubbing my hands together and blowing on them to get some warmth back when Bowen called out my name. I didn’t see him, but then he was right in front of me.
“Hey. Long time no see.”
“Are you sure you should be up and moving around?” he asked, motioning us to a table right in front of the roaring fire. “You’re freezing. You do know it snowed last night, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Ditching Damian or Gigi?”
Why didn’t it surprise me he knew about their giving me trouble these last two weeks? Bowen seemed to be very well informed. He knew Damian from his days as a bounty hunter. And most everyone knew Gigi. He was lucky to be on her good side. As was I. Asking Bowen more questions about who he really was tempted me. I was tired of talking about my issues lately, but I needed his help and bringing up his past would only make him not want to work with me.
I took off my coat and draped it over the back of the wooden chair. “I guess both, really. Oh, stop with the worried frown. Damian knows I’m here. Though it took a bit to get him to let me leave.”
More supes walked in, and for once no one paid me any attention. That was fine by me. There were more important things going on in our world than my tracking down some lowlife in the Underground. To be fair, ever since dealing with Rafael and the other Feds, a small part of me—a part that was growing larger—started to feel like maybe the Underground was the best place for me. That maybe I shouldn’t have made enemies all these years. I should have made friends. Allies.