Against the Dawn

by amanda bonilla

  “I think you’ve had enough.”

  His dark eyes smoldered as he turned to look at me. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough, Darian.”

  “Are we here to do business or get shitfaced and lose a fortune, Lorik?” If he ruined my chances of getting close to the Mithras tonight, I’d kill Lorik myself. I leaned in and spoke close to his ear, “Mithras could be watching you as we speak. You want to give him the impression that your game is tight, Lorik. Getting sloppy drunk and losing all of your money isn’t going to earn you any brownie points.”

  “Sir, the bet is to you.”

  The Fae interrupted our conversation and I lost Lorik’s attention entirely. He was out of chips. He couldn’t bet again if he wanted to. And since I doubted he had another handful of diamonds in his pocket, I hoped this would shut him down for the night. He reached into the pocket lining his jacket and produced a single black onyx chip. My jaw went slack as I studied the exact replica of the death marker Ty had supplied me a picture of. Son of a bitch. “May I raise,” Lorik tossed the marker onto the table, “with this?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I was pretty sure my eyes were bugging out of my head. Tyler had Lorik spot on. Of course, I shouldn’t have been surprised. It seemed that there was little Ty didn’t know. The Fae stared down at the chip and the other players at the table grew deathly silent. Had this been his plan all along? Find a venue where he might get lucky enough to wager his life debt and pass it on to someone else? Kieran said the debt was nontransferable. Did he never listen?

  “I’m sorry sir. That chip cannot be accepted at this table or any other.” Her stiff formality was belied by the nervous quaver that infused her voice. “Please remove it from the table.”

  You would have thought the chip was about to explode with the way everyone eyed it. The dealer refused to touch it and the other players scooted their chairs back. Anxious murmurs spread from the table outward, and eyes from all corners of the club turned in our direction. With each passing second, I felt my opportunity to get to Mithras slip another notch. Damn Lorik and his bullshit. Fine. If no one wanted to move the damned thing, I’d take it myself.

  Darian, no! As I reached out to grab the chip, Asher’s shout of protest was clear in my mind. I pulled up short, changing course as though intending to lean in toward Lorik. I laid my hand on his upper arm and my heart stuttered in my chest as the realization hit that Asher might have helped me to dodge a bullet. Perhaps there was more to this death marker than even Kieran knew. “Get that thing off the table before they throw us out!” I seethed in his ear. “Now.”

  Like a sullen child, Lorik snatched the onyx chip up in his fist and stuffed it back in his pocket with a curse. I sensed he’d been trying to trick someone—maybe even me—into taking possession of it. Could it be so easy to transfer a life debt? “I was tiring of this game, anyway,” he sneered. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Asher. He wandered through the maze of fountains, lounge areas, and gaming tables, his attention zeroed in on Lorik and me. No longer exuding the playfulness of a wide-eyed kid, his youthful face was lined with concern and his brow furrowed over his bright amber eyes. His mouth drew a hard line, squaring his jaw and sharpening his features. Thanks to Lorik’s foolishness, I could count on everyone, including Asher, to be on edge for the rest of the night. Fuck. There was no way I’d get close enough to Mithras to finish the job at this point.

  “Lorik.”

  We turned toward the voice in tandem and I stepped in front of Lorik to protect him from whatever threat might come his way. The daggers vibrated at my sides, sensing my mood, but I pushed the sensation to the back of my mind as I remembered Reaver’s words. They merely echoed my emotions. So far, the only danger was in my imagination.

  The Fae was dressed in the sort of Legolas-meets-Robin Hood getup that Raif had a tendency to favor. In fact, this Fae had a warrior’s muscular build and a hardness to his storm gray eyes that spoke of years spent in rigorous battle. Totally out of place here. Maybe he was a bouncer sent to throw us out. He looked down on me from at least seven feet of height and his lips puckered with curiosity as one brow arched over a stormy eye. “Mithras would like to see you, Lorik. Since you’re finished gaming for the night.”

  His gaze didn’t leave mine and I suppressed a shiver. If he knew who I was, he didn’t give any outward show of recognition, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this Fae wanted to say something to me. “How do we know this isn’t a trap? Or yet another imposter claiming to be Mithras only to give us some stupid errand to run.” I was still pissed off about the great werewolf debacle and I refused to jump through any more hoops. “Can you give us some assurances before we blindly follow you?”

  The Fae canted his head to one side and studied me. “You’re quite reluctant for someone so anxious to meet him.”

  Hmmm. I can’t say that it put me anymore at ease that he knew that. And how had the Fae come by that knowledge, anyway? “Anxious is one thing,” I remarked. “Blind stupidity is another.”

  “So true,” he agreed. “Follow me, please. Mithras doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Well, looked like he didn’t give much of a shit about my opinion on the matter. But his reaction wasn’t out of the ordinary for this type of meet. We were nothing but low-level middlemen whose misgivings meant very little. Only Lorik stood to gain from entering into business with Mithras. The truth was, there were a hundred Loriks out there all waiting to take his place. We were as expendable as any two-bit dealer on the street. Playing games would get us nothing but kicked out of Atlas and wiped from Mithras’s radar for good.

  “Well, Lorik. Whaddya say?”

  The depths of his dark eyes still smoldered with anger and he didn’t even try to adopt a friendly façade. He gave the Fae a single sharp nod and to me he said, “If Azriel were here, we would have taken the house for every dime they had, gambled with whatever fucking currency we chose, and that Fae would be gutted for looking at us like we weren’t worth his time.”

  The dig wasn’t lost on me and a sharp pang speared my chest. Lorik’s words rang with a certain truth and I supposed that in his eyes, I’d failed miserably by not living up to Azriel’s ruthless standards. If he’d found me several years ago—before I met Tyler—I’d have been the cold-hearted bitch Lorik was hoping for now. A student who would have made Azriel proud. Now I was a poor excuse for an assassin with a mild case of PTSD and a fucked up love-life. “Azriel isn’t here, Lorik,” I hissed close to his ear. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m all you’ve got. So unless you want to go into that room with Mithras without any protection, I suggest you keep your smart-ass comments to yourself.”

  His derisive snort was all I needed to hear to know how he felt about the situation. Fine. When this was all said and done, he could find some other chump to watch his back. Because this girl was so done. Lorik’s memory must have suffered some damage over the past several decades. Because, sentimentality and friendship aside, the Azriel I knew wouldn’t have suffered his bullshit for even a moment.

  Asher stayed close to my back, daggers drawn and expression wary. For all we knew, we could be walking into a trap. “I swear to the gods, Darian. If that asshole doesn’t watch his mouth, you’re not going to have to worry about what Mithras might do to him, because I’ll take him out myself.”

  It was sweet that Asher wanted to gut Lorik on my behalf.

  The Fae led us into an alcove that disappeared behind a large stone fountain at one of the far corners of the club. My heart rate kicked up as the blood pumped hard in my veins. The momentary darkness fired all of my senses into hyperawareness and I rested my palms on the hilts of my daggers, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. We emerged in a room that was adorned in rich brown leather with more of the same slate floors. This lounge was free of the sweet gold dust that floated through the air in the heart of the club and the noise beyond was muted as though we’d g
one deep into the earth, below the building.

  Strange, since I couldn’t recall a downward slope and there certainly weren’t any stairs.

  “Um, who set the Way Back Machine for ancient Rome?” Asher whispered. “I sure as hell hope Professor Peabody can get us home.”

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t be tempted to laugh. Ash was right, though. I felt like I’d been teleported to the set of Gladiator or some shit. Just what in the hell was I looking at…?

  Behind the man himself was a troop of soldiers that would have made Julius Cesar weep with pride. All adorned in the ancient battle gear favored by Roman legionnaires complete with helmets sporting plumes of stiff, red dyed horse hair, they looked ready to plunder a British village and slaughter druids at a moment’s notice. Their Gladius short swords were true to their period garb, polished to a high sheen and honed to a razor edge that I wasn’t eager to test. And to think Lorik brought me along tonight to lend him an air of strength. Ha! Mithras had us beat hands down in the intimidation department.

  “Lorik. We finally meet. Tell me, exactly what can you do to further my business endeavors in Seattle?”

  While Lorik spewed what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech that extolled his virtues as a master criminal, I zoned out and studied the elusive Mithras: supernatural badass, murderer, and self-proclaimed god. Red flags were cropping up all over the damned place, complete with internal sound effects that jacked my blood pressure up with each new pop!

  “He’s wearing a glamour,” Asher said as though reading my thoughts. Tension radiated from him, buffeting my body like little pings of spring hail. A bit distracting when I was having a hard enough time dealing with the massive amounts of supernatural energy that Mithras was throwing my way.

  Mithras paused mid-sentence and lifted his gaze to mine for the barest of moments. A shiver raced down my spine. One brown eye, and one green stared straight through me, narrowing in suspicion before he finally turned his attention back to Lorik and their conversation. I caught a bit here and there, something about assault rifles and distribution, drop sites and erasing the money trail, but my mind was racing too fast to keep up.

  “He’s trying to break through my illusion,” Asher said, his voice strained. “I don’t think he knows I’m here, but he senses that something’s off. He’s likely highly sensitive to magic. Maybe the bastard can feel me in his head. I might have to duck out if he keeps it up.”

  I gave a slight nod in acknowledgement but kept my attention focused on Lorik. I couldn’t afford for Ash to be caught, and with the army of men guarding Mithras’s back, I wasn’t going to get a shot at him any time soon. My best bet at this point was to wait him out, let Lorik conduct his meeting, and at the end of the night, follow Mithras back to whatever den he’d crawled from.

  “I’m backing out, Darian. He’s pretty damned strong and I don’t want to take any chances. See you in the future.”

  God, I loved Ash. Even in a life or death situation, he could find the opportunity to make a joke. Mithras was packing a punch, no doubt about that. His power signature was intimidating in a way that made me feel small and inconsequential. His very presence overwhelmed. I’d felt this way one other time and strangely enough it was earlier this same night. At The Pit when I was talking to Levi. Mithras’s energy was very similar to the one that belonged to the man who’d greeted me at the bar.

  Weird.

  “I’ve got the connections, Mithras.” Lorik continued to lay out his business strategy point by point. “In fact, I have buyers lined up and ready to go. They’ve got cash in hand and are ready to deal. All they need is the product.”

  “You’re terribly confident, aren’t you?” Mithras’s voice was low and rough, scraping through his throat like metal on gravel. “Making promises with my guns when you have no deal in place. How do I know you won’t lose my product like you lost my wolf?”

  The mention of Steve—AKA Camden, the big bad alpha wolf—perked my ears to the conversation. I made a mental note to check up on him, see how he was faring after his ordeal as a prisoner. Maybe Ty could hook us up for a face-to-face. At least then I could apologize for calling him Steve and loving on him like he was my pet.

  “I didn’t lose your wolf, if you recall.” Lorik was calm as a fucking cucumber as he reclined in his chair and rested his arms on the rests. “The beast was delivered to its destination as promised. What happened to it once it changed hands is not my concern.”

  “True,” the arms dealer remarked as though he had a kennel full of backup werewolves at home. “You’ve proved that you can follow orders and work well under pressure. War is my business, Lorik. Guns are more important that warriors in this day and age. Any cocksure youth with an itchy trigger finger can incite a battle for no reason whatsoever. I plan to give these agitators what they want. And if you can guarantee me that you’ll move those guns, I can supply you with more than enough product to satisfy your petty greed.”

  Lorik didn’t even flinch at the other man’s insult, just kept on truckin’ like a pro—or the ignorant fool he was. “Good. You might be in the business of war, but I’m in the business of money. I like it and I want more of it.”

  Yeah. So he could gamble it all away.

  My attention wandered as they began to discuss specifics. After tonight, Mithras wouldn’t be supplying anyone with anything so I didn’t bother with the details of his agreement with Lorik. Somehow, I felt as though the arms dealer’s attention was divided between me and Lorik. He didn’t make eye contact, but I felt his attention on me, nonetheless. On the other hand, I stared openly, watching every movement of his body, the nuance of hand gestures, and inflection of his voice. I couldn’t care less what he said, but his tone was indicative of his mood. I needed him nice and relaxed.

  With his guard all the way down.

  His human glamour was throwing me for a loop. Why in this of all places would he wear a false face? And one of a middle-aged man to boot. The façade was impressive; it wasn’t like he’d adopted the weak exterior of a soft retiree who’d been camped out on his recliner for the past two years. Rather, Mithras wore the countenance of a five-star general, one who’d earned his honorable discharge and had a box of medals and commendations to back up a successful military career.

  His salt and pepper gray hair was clipped close to his skull, and every line creasing his brow told a story of battles won and lost, of hardships overcome. The white line of a raised scar pulled at the corner of his left eye and streaked down his cheek, disappearing where his jaw met his ear. Another slashed his upper lip, barely noticeable and a third puckered the skin of his throat visible above his collar.

  His row of soldiers stood stock still and ramrod straight behind him, their eyes focused straight ahead, their expressions blank. Not a hair was out of place, and each man’s sword hand rested on the pommel of his weapon, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. Mithras, the warrior’s god. Ancient warriors sacrificed bulls in his honor, fought battles in his name, and took the secrets of their cult to the grave. Could it be that I was standing in a room with the god himself?

  Tyler thought so. And stranger things could—and had—happened.

  An involuntary chill shook me from head to toe, a result of the power Mithras emanated in thick waves. It pressed down on me, surrounded me until I was caged in by that energy, pinned in place by the force of it. I was an insect beneath his feet, something inconsequential that he could squash on a whim. He wanted me to feel what he was capable of. Message received.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to kill the sonofabitch anyway, though. I took Raif’s words to heart that there wasn’t anything on this earth that couldn’t be killed. And that went for war mongering, gun peddling deities whose time had come and gone. Mithras had killed an innocent woman. He planned to fill the streets with guns and provide dumbasses everywhere with the means to murder their fellow man, encouraging mindless violence at every turn. If Tyler was right, and Mithras d
rew strength from his faithful followers, the wars he helped to create would not only strengthen him, but make him a force to be reckoned with. One that could bring a shit ton of destruction in his wake. For all of that and more, he was going to pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After another thirty or so minutes of negotiation, Lorik and Mithras came to terms that they both could agree upon. My next order of business was to get Lorik the hell out of Atlas before he got himself into any more trouble and out of my hair so I could focus on my real reason for being there tonight. They sealed their business relationship with a handshake and a toast. All so civilized and gentlemanly. Give me a break.

  Mithras and his soldiers stayed behind while Lorik and I emerged from the alcove to the familiar cloud of gold dust and sensory overload. I headed for the exit but Lorik grabbed my elbow and swung me around back toward the bar. “Oh, no. I’m not letting you duck out early tonight, Darian. We’ve just made a lucrative deal and we’re going to celebrate!”

  Damn it. “You made a deal. I’m your flashy muscle. Let’s get out of here, okay? This gold dust is choking me out.”

  “It looks lovely on your skin, though.” He gave me a flirtatious wink. The only skin not covered with clothes was my face and hands. If Lorik wanted to see something lovely, there were plenty of half-naked Fae flashing their gilded flesh.

  “One drink, and then we’re out of here.” Lorik was oblivious to the pointed stares and murmurs surrounding us. He was walking around with a death marker in his pocket. One he’d tried to pawn off on the nearest idiot naïve enough to take it. I seriously doubted he’d be welcome here for much longer.

  We sidled up to the bar and ordered two drinks, bartender’s choice. Great. As much as I loved to swallow down unidentified Fae liquor without knowing what was in the glass, I decided to pass.

  “Where’s your adventurous spirit?”