by LJ Swallow
Yes, Syv's aware.
Morgan continues to eye me with suspicion. "Part demon, can't trust her, Cillian."
"Unfair." The big guy steps out from behind the shelves, his voice a low rumble to match the ground from earlier.
I stare.
Because who wouldn't?
He's a mass of muscle I wouldn't want to tangle with. Well, not in a fight, anyway. His biceps strain against his black t-shirt's capped sleeves and the fabric stretches across the expansive chest he folds his arms across.
"She's okay. I told you," he continues.
I blink in confusion. Does he know me?
"Put the dagger away, then we'll trust you," says Cillian to me. "Morgan just conjured the barrier to save your life. Thank him, and he might be nicer to you."
Morgan snorts and watches as I tuck the dagger into my boot. The ice-covered guy catches my eye again, and my mouth dries. "I don't have the box. Let me leave."
"Once we've had a chat," says the blond.
I look back to the three. "Who are you?"
"Cillian." He points at his chest with slender fingers. "Morgan. Dex." Morgan scowls, and Dex nods.
"Mind explaining how you know me?"
Cillian smiles. "Which 'you' do you mean? The girl who was there when the Horsemen saved the world? The wild half-demon with red hair and rumoured daughter of a demon prince? The mercenary with a knack for tracking magical items but has zero magic to protect herself?"
Dex chuckles at my attempt to keep a straight face. Demon prince? I have a hazy memory of one night, totally wasted on cheap booze at a party, when I told people I was Lucifer's daughter. Sounds like my over-imaginative story stuck.
"Which ‘me’ were you looking for?" I ask.
"The one currently trying to steal an item we want," replies Morgan. "One that someone else has now, which is fucking great."
"I didn't give it to them."
"Who were you stealing the box for?" asks Cillian in a kinder voice than his friend.
"I was returning it to a client who said the item belonged to him."
Dex snorts. "Sure. Because your clients always own the items you 'find' for them."
"As long as I'm paid, I don't care," I retort.
I'm failing to size up this situation properly. I can't detect if the trio will hurt me or not. Morgan's borderline aggression unnerves me, but Cillian's curiosity and Dex's amused indifference stop me charging past them.
"One of the assassin guys took the box." I gesture at the empty space. "Sorry."
Morgan straightens and runs his tongue along his teeth. "The item is dangerous. You should be happy you never left with your prize."
I groan and sit onto one of the fallen wooden boxes, careful to keep my feet away from the ice on the floor. "This isn't another apocalypse situation, is it? Because I've seriously had enough of those this year."
"No. Not quite." Morgan waves a hand at me. "Can we take her now?"
"Take me where?" I bat back, sliding a hand to my boot for my dagger. "Nobody takes me anywhere."
"Excuse Morgan's choice of words. He means we've come to invite you," replies Cillian.
"Invite me?" I fight a smirk. "Like on a date? With all three of you? My usual limit is two."
Okay, in their case I might make an exception. I bite down on my lip and study the three. They planned this impromptu meeting in a warehouse, and I bet they followed me to find the box. How dangerous are they? Cillian’s magic took down a guy in seconds. Again, the exit is blocked—talking my way out seems a better option than fighting the three.
Cillian pushes the frozen guy’s body to one side with his foot as the ice around him fades away. "No. There's somebody else who'd like to meet you."
"Oh! Blind date?"
Dex cocks a brow. "You're not fooling me with your smart replies. You're scared."
My racing heart and clammy palms agree with him, but I pretend not to hear.
"Would that be a problem?" asks Cillian. "Are you already in a relationship?"
I laugh at his formal words. "No, I'm not currently banging anyone. I don't have time."
"Why? How long do you usually take?" asks Morgan with snark.
I fix my eyes on him and give him a deliberately coy smile. "Longer than you could manage, I'm sure."
"Oh, Morgan has all the time in the world." Cillian smiles. "He's a chronomancer."
"A what-er what?"
"And abjurer, so be nice if you want me to save your shapely backside again," he puts in.
I screw up my face. "I have no idea what you're saying to me."
"Morgan can manipulate time," says Dex.
"Right. So, a wizard? And I suppose Mr. Freeze can manipulate water?" I ask and point at the unfortunate frozen guy on the floor.
"I can control all elements," retorts Cillian.
My stomach lurches. Elemental. I’ve never met one but heard they’re not to be messed with. "Useful."
"We don't have time for this shit," growls Dex. "Can we leave before someone realises what happened here?"
Dex may be the only one who hasn't cast magic, but he's the one I'm wariest of. If I meet guys his size in a fight, running is the only option. "Where exactly do you want me to go with you?"
"We work with a group who deal with some of the world's new anomalies," explains Cillian.
"Anomalies." I frown at the word choice. "Oh, the new Dwellers who snuck through before the portals closed again? Are you Dwellers too?"
Dwellers. The derogatory name other supes give to all new arrivals from beyond the portals; the gates to other worlds that the crazy god opened a few months ago. Because the portals are permanently closed, these creatures are stuck and unable to go back to their old reality.
Kind of ironic and hypocritical of existing supes to treat Dwellers this way. The well-established vampire, shifter, and demon communities came through similar portals hundreds of years ago. I guess they don’t like sharing.
"Yes."
"But dealing with them is the Horsemen's job," I reply.
Dex makes a humph noise and Morgan interrupts, "They're too busy dealing with the existing supes and keeping the demon-led Order under control. This new organisation works to help integrate the newcomers."
"Or eradicate," puts in Cillian. "If necessary."
"Wow. Nice. Can I just say, I've been here my whole twenty-five years, and I don't need integrating or eradicating?"
"I told you she was funny," Dex says.
"Do I know you?" I ask him again.
He shakes his head, and his messy hair falls back into his eyes. "Not really."
I cast my mind back to more hazy nights and hazy guys. I've spent fun times with guys his size, and most blend together in my mind, but I swear I'd remember this one. Was he at the party when I told my tall tale about Lucifer? The night I met Bastian.
I chew on a fingernail and look between the three powerful men. "You're asking me to go with you. Do I have any choice?"
Morgan breaks into a smile. "Nope."
Why do the simple jobs always end up the most complicated?
3
I stare into the swirling darkness that appears in the floor close to Morgan's feet, unsure how close I could get. I haven't agreed to leave with them yet, and don't feel like being sucked into any vortexes tonight. This evening proved difficult and confusing enough.
"Listen, I've had issues with portals recently and I'm not super keen on stepping into one."
"It's not that type of portal, Syv. This won't take you to another realm, it's just Morgan's manipulation that allows it to link to our base."
I crane my head. The darkness swirls with light, like someone stirring cream into a huge-ass mug of black coffee. "Which is where, exactly?"
"London," replies Dex.
I nod and step back from the swirling ground at my feet. "I have a car. We can drive instead of using... whatever that is."
"A secret location in London, of course," says Cillian with a laugh. "
You won't find the place easily."
"Platform 9 3/4?" I ask Morgan.
"What?" He frowns at me.
"You don't know Harry Potter? Aren't you a wizard? With your various '-mancies'. Or are you human?"
He looks back with confusion. "How many humans do you know who can do that?" He jabs a finger at his creation.
"True."
"Guys." Dex's voice lowers to a growl and he tips his head as if listening out for something. "There are more coming. I knew they'd have back up."
I strain to hear but there's nothing.
"Your choice, Syv. Face more of the same or come with us. This is your only way out right now."
I run my tongue along my teeth as faint voices approach nearby. "Okay, but if you murder me, I'll be really pissed off."
Dex approaches from behind and without a word steps into the hole on the ground. His huge body disappears the moment his feet touch the black space.
Holding my breath as if I'm about to jump into the ocean's dark depths, I step forward. Darkness and light flash in and out, as if falling through a tunnel. Apart from I don't feel as if I'm falling, but instead I’m paralysed. When the darkness retreats, I'm standing on a polished floor in a room which smells faintly of cigar smoke.
I adjust my eyes to the light, dimmer than the bright warehouse, and look around. A black hole closes behind me and the three amigos are close by. Morgan sits in a winged armchair, ankle crossed over his knee as he smirks at my confusion.
A large symbol is painted in the centre of the dark wood floor—like an eye with a cross through the centre. Oak panelling reaches halfway up the wall and matching double doors are closed at the other side of the large room. Pictures hang on the walls between ornate wall lights. Apart from Morgan's armchair, the room contains a large desk and chair with a laptop open on top, beneath a huge rectangular window covered by burgundy curtains.
"Bat cave?" I ask.
"Bats?" asks Morgan.
I’ll need to avoid obvious pop culture references with this guy. "Never mind, Robin."
He makes an exasperated noise and waves a hand at Cillian. "Where's Donovan? He said he'd wait in the room."
Dex shrugs and sits on the desk edge.
Crossing my arms, I study this room closer. This is the kind of place I've spent time prowling around before. Big and old homes equal rich collectors and their selection of interesting 'acquisitions'. Ones I re-home.
I walk to the picture. The oil painting depicts men sat around a table, chess pieces on the table in front. I lean closer. Not chess, but a map with small figures. War strategy? They're dressed in older fashions and I'd hazard a guess at Victorian.
My boots tap on the floor as I walk to the next. An old building set on a rocky outcrop overlooking a lake.
"Do you like art, Syv?" asks Cillian.
"Some."
"She's taking stock, in case the paintings need liberating later." Dex chuckles and I scowl.
"I'm not. So, where are we?"
"Our headquarters. We're part of an Institute."
"Institute?"
Dex smiles. "Of sorts. The words sound better than den of Dwellers."
"Okay..." I walk to inspect the laptop and Cillian closes it before I can press any keys.
"Where's the dude you want me to meet?" I ask.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon." Morgan pulls his phone from his pocket. "I'll let Donovan know we've fetched you."
"Um. No. I chose to come. I wasn't 'fetched'."
"Uh huh." Guys with smirks like Morgan's piss me off. Partly because on broody faces like his, they're sexy. He raises his dark eyes to mine and they glint, as if aware I'm checking him out.
I turn away to Dex, who yawns in my direction before smiling too.
Five minutes of awkward silence follows, and I blow air into my cheeks. What do I do? Walk away? I'm about to speak when the door opens at the opposite end of the room. The man who walks in isn't what I expected. In my experience, people who own places like this tend to be old or dignified-looking, or both.
This man is neither. He's middle-aged with short hair I've heard called salt and pepper. He's dressed in grey sweatpants and a matching tank top, wiping a blue towel across his forehead. Without speaking, he approaches me and regards me with hazel eyes.
"Syv." His statement is spoken in an upper-class English accent. "Nice to meet you."
"Yeah."
He wraps the towel across his shoulders and wipes a hand on his pants. Holds it out. "Donovan."
"I'd rather not. You're sweaty."
He chuckles. "Fair enough." Donovan looks passed me to Cillian. "Did Syv have the box?"
I reply for him. "No. Someone sent heavies to interfere. I bet they followed me. Like you guys. Your little box is very popular. Seems more than two people want it."
"Yeah, we got there in time to save her backside," puts in Morgan.
"I could've managed."
He shakes his head with an eye roll.
"Well, I'm glad you fetched Syv even if you couldn't bring the box."
Fetched. I grit my teeth.
"Your associates wanted me to meet you, apparently? Something about protecting the world? I told the guys—the Four Horsemen have that task."
Donovan snorts. "They have their role, we have ours. I'd say they are more reactive to situations. We're more strategic—we watch and listen. Eyes and ears, as it were."
"Like the Order?" I ask.
Demons attempt to control the world through their ever-growing network located in all areas of human society. Politics, law enforcement, business and more—you’ll find members of the Order influencing activities. Their ultimate aim? Takeover. The Four Horsemen have their work cut out disrupting the Order’s activities. Especially now there’s a rumoured alliance with the fae.
Donovan’s face darkens. "No. Not like the Order. The Kirkas Institute works alone and to help—not to disrupt."
"I’ve never heard of you."
"Secret society?" suggests Morgan.
I sigh. "And I suppose you heard about my special skills and have a job for me? These guys said you want the item I located tonight. Listen, things get awkward when the same people want an item. Expensive."
Donovan laughs at me as if I'm a stupid kid and crosses his arms. "Did you not explain to Syv what would happen if this item found its way into the wrong hands?" he asks Cillian.
"In vague terms," I reply.
Donovan waves his hand at the chair by the desk. "Sit. Let's talk."
I do as he suggests, half-slumped, and tap my boot toes in front of me. Morgan's amused opinion of me seems to stick as he watches and I arch a 'what?' eyebrow at him.
Donovan remains standing. "The box contains something not from this world, that has the potential to cause problems."
I sit forward as if to stand. "Well, definitely a job for the Horsemen, then. See you around."
"Are you their manager or something?" asks Morgan. "Or just a superfan?"
"I've worked with them. I know what they're good at. Y'know, like saving the world and shit."
"And letting portals open and shit?" mimics Morgan.
"I don't think that was their fault. The story is a little more complicated than that," I snap. "I know. I was there."
"Morgan. Drop the attitude." Donovan scowls at him and Morgan looks away. "I apologise. The portals opening caused some problems for Morgan as he was dragged through from his realm."
"Yeah, they told me, you’re a bunch of Dwellers."
"Not me," says Donovan. "I’ve always lived here. And I find Dwellers a derogatory term. These men are more than they seem."
"We're both elementals." Cillian gestures between himself and Morgan. "Although slightly different magic."
"Yeah. Mine's better." He pokes his friend with a rare smile. "And that's not strictly true. We're from the portal that was located in Australia, which is where a few of our kind walked through. Cillian's spells are connected to the four elements. Mine are m
ore linked to aether and the fabric of the world."
Donovan nods. "These guys are powerful enough to confront Verin, if he gets hold of the box, before he has a chance to use what's contained inside."
"Who?" I ask.
"A powerful demon who entered the world through a portal six months ago. One who wants to harness power he shouldn’t, so we’re watching him."
"Power from this box? What is it?"
"Something we’re convinced is connected to you."
I sit forward. "You know what I hate from clients? Cryptic shit. If you're sending me after something dangerous, a) you pay more, and b) you tell me exactly how dangerous. Malvorn didn't, so I'm prepared to give you a chance."
Dex breaks his silence with a rumbling laugh as Donovan stares back at my attitude. "We're not contracting you, we're recruiting you."
I blink. "Nope. No way. I don't work for anybody but myself."
"But we have good terms, Syv." Cillian crosses the room and sits beside Dex on the desk. "There are several boxes to be found, and we think you’re the best person to locate them. And we can help you find more about your powers."
"I don't have any powers apart from the magic-locating one."
"And the ability to get yourself out of tricky situations," he says with a smile.
"Usually." I gesture around me.
"You appear to have trust issues. I can understand that," replies Donovan. "You've had things hard the last few years."
"You don't know me well enough to say that."
Donovan shakes his head. "If you say. But I'd like to put the offer on the table. Maybe you could consider it? We can keep you safe too."
I narrow my eyes. "Safe from who?"
"Those who'd rather your abilities weren't found. You like to find magic items, right?" asks Morgan. "There's a reason you're attracted to them. We think you’re looking for something but maybe aren’t aware what."
"And we can help you," puts in Donovan. "I promise."
I narrow my eyes. "What makes you think all this about me? I knew it wasn’t a bloody coincidence you arrived tonight."
"Oh, come on, Syv. You know everything has changed in the world. We think someone is aware of your origins and knows how dangerous you'll be if you discover your hidden powers," Morgan says.