by Michele Hauf
Would she?
He’d known something the moment they had kissed in the alley that first night. And he still held that knowing as truth. So he didn’t want to screw this up, didn’t want to give her any reason to turn against him. Much as it wasn’t his usual MO, he wanted to see where things went with the pretty little witch. He’d like to know her. All of her.
Did he deserve that? Hell, no.
But screw the right and wrong of it. This time around, he would take what he could get.
A few minutes later, she landed by his side and handed him the filched garrote, coiled into a neat ring. “You ever use that on a vampire?”
“Many times. Doesn’t kill, but does shut them up for a while.”
He pocketed the weapon, and Zoë took his free hand and placed on his palm a small, clear, glass container about the size of his thumb with an aluminum screw-on lid. The contents were black and sparkly.
“This is it?”
“You rub a bit under your eyes to see faeries. It’s powerful stuff, so I didn’t give you much.”
Sounded wonky to him. Rubbing something sparkly under his eyes? Reminded him that he’d seen the vampire Vail sporting just such a look on more than a few occasions. But he wouldn’t question magic, faery or otherwise.
“How much?”
She trailed her fingers down his sweater and snuggled up to him as her hand ventured lower, along his leg, but merciless inches away from his hardening erection.
“Zoë?”
She murmured that sweet little moan against his ear that reminded him how much he’d wanted to listen to her pleasure. “Just come back again. I’ll be waiting.”
Best deal he’d been offered in a lifetime.
“Tonight?” he asked.
“I’ve work to do that’ll keep me up late, so why not? A goodnight kiss is the price you must pay for what you hold in your hand.”
“Deal.” He kissed her quickly, and she fisted hanks of his hair and pulled him back for a longer kiss that burned through his skin and summoned a sigh in his whole body. “Later, I’ll give you the official goodnight kiss.”
Pausing on the threshold, Kaz patted the key in his pocket. Safe.
He felt her gaze on his back as he walked down the sidewalk overgrown with sweet bluegrass and tiny white flowers. He wasn’t about to let a woman interfere with an important operation. But he also wasn’t willing to stay away from Zoë for too long. Because already his mouth felt cold and ached for the touch of her lips.
With every kiss she gave him, running away from the kleptomaniac witch felt less and less reasonable.
Chapter 6
With the black ointment rubbed under his eyes, Kaz worked the football-quarterback look. It would have to do.
He strolled quickly through the Pigalle, Paris’s red-light district, which always seemed more filled with tourists looking for salacious sights than actual salacious sights.
He passed a store blasting out French rap music. He understood French, but German was his native language and his father had spoken it exclusively, despite their having lived in Paris most of Kaz’s childhood. He preferred English, mostly because speaking English pissed off the locals, and he’d never lose the rebellious streak two years of living on the streets had carved into his soul. Musicians and wannabes hung around the neon-framed doorway and one high-fived him as he strolled by. So maybe he was working the rocker look more than the football star.
The moment he set foot in FaeryTown, he realized it. Entering the altered dimension overlaid upon the mortal world tugged minutely at his system. It felt as if he were being zapped from inside, not from a nerve twinge, but perhaps by something moving through him and swirling about. Had he not been aware, and had been on a casual stroll as a tourist, he might have marked it off as a sudden chill that tightened his skin and put up goose bumps, or maybe a brush up against a rude stranger.
Now as Kaz rubbed his hands together and felt the hairs at the back of his neck settle, he noticed the flickering winged beings that walked the streets. Others didn’t walk but rather fluttered a few inches above ground, and here and there, some soared parallel to the rooftops. The faeries were solid and yet not. They appeared as human as the next, yet not. Some moved as if a movie film reel were missing a few cels, their steps jerky. Others with wings moved normally, as if out for a casual stroll—or flight.
Yet amongst them, the humans appeared slightly dull to Kaz, as if the colors of skin, hair and clothing had been lightly muted. They were unaware of the fantastical world that existed about them. If a faery wing happened to brush across a human’s face, that person would merely sweep a hand over their cheek, perhaps marking it off as the wind.
“Amazing,” Kaz muttered.
He’d never given faeries much thought, consigning them to the fantastical. Yes, even he, a man who slayed creatures of the night, had a hard time believing in faeries.
Until now.
Slightly disturbed by what he saw, and wondering how many times he’d walked this area unaware of the world overlaid upon his own, he marked it as a learning experience. A fascinating new adventure.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ventured down the sidewalk, passing regular mortal stores and shopfronts, but also noticing the occasional wildly colored, narrow shop tucked between two mortal shops that couldn’t be anything but sidhe. Wing Healer? Yeah, that wasn’t a mortal shop. Nor was the Lazy Troll Tavern that offered discounts to banshees.
The sidhe gave him little notice, going about their conversations and business as if the human realm they interposed upon did not exist.
Zoë had mentioned something about faeries only allowing a mortal to see them if they wished, so he had to wonder if they were aware he could see them now. Certainly the dark ointment was a giveaway. And if they did notice, did they care?
Kaz felt a compulsion to reach out and stroke his fingers along the veined, see-through pink wings of a passing faery, but controlled the urge by shoving his hand in a front pocket. The Order’s information had detailed something about faeries’ wings and touching them being a sexual overture. He didn’t want to test that information.
Oddly, the air smelled sweeter, though he reasoned he couldn’t possibly notice the difference beyond the gasoline fumes and crush of fall leaves in the gutters. He only had the ability to see faeries. The ointment didn’t affect his other senses, did it?
He spied a neon sign that flashed a big, red V. In the dip of the V hung an I—no, closer inspection determined it could be a stake pointed into the crotch of the V. Interesting way to lure in vampires. Stretched out from the V were faery wings that flashed from bright green to yellow, then red. It was the symbol for an ichor den—that much, the Order had taught him. They were everywhere in FaeryTown, places vampires visited to get a faery dust fix, but he only noticed them now.
“Just the place I want to check out.”
Kaz walked across the street and entered the open doorway beneath the V sign. The air choked him with a scent he couldn’t place. Sweet, yet cloying, so much so, he blinked and his eyes watered. And he could taste something bitter at the back of his throat. He couldn’t see any dust in the air.
He walked a long, bright hallway that seemed to glow of its own accord. It didn’t necessarily sparkle; it just beamed. Kaz felt both eager and anxious. He had no experience with faeries that he knew of. What he did know for sure was that one should not mess with faeries. That was a conviction held by humans and paranormals. Any breed all the other paranormal breeds liked to walk a wide circle around, wisely incited caution.
He realized he was sweating. So he took his nervousness down a notch and focused on calling up the calm Rook had trained him to utilize in dangerous situations. Breathe in; breathe out. Slowly. Calmly.
He would touch as little as possible. Faery dust on his f
ingers shouldn’t affect him as it did vampires, but who could know? As well, he had no clue what faeries could do to his mind. Could they utilize persuasion, as did vampires? Did they have magic like Zoë? Would he even see the hurt coming should he piss off a faery?
As a hunter who was merely human, he was out of his league. Most likely, he could catch the Magic Dust dealer without nosing into the affairs of the sidhe. Why had he come here?
Run away, Kaspar. It’s what you do best.
Vacillating on his ill-thought decision to enter the ichor den, Kaz swung around to eye the open door through which he’d entered. Immediately before him stood a tall, abnormally thin woman with long, green hair and slitted eyes that gleamed silver-violet. Wispy-edged violet wings curled forward about her shoulders, like a soft shawl. She wore very little, and the few sheer strips of fabric wrapping her pale skin revealed body parts that Kaz was thankful were very humanlike.
The unabashed exposure teased at his need to remain in control, and he immediately snapped his gaze up to her eerie eyes.
“You’ve no business in this establishment, human,” she said in a whispery voice that Kaz felt more than heard. The sound tickled his ears and throat from the inside, as if a sneeze was imminent. Everything about FaeryTown affected his insides, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Are you lost?”
“No, I was, uh...curious.”
He couldn’t admit he was investigating illicit drugs. Nor could he deny he hadn’t purposely chosen to snoop about with the black ointment, an obvious giveaway to his intentions.
“Is it all right if I look around? I’m fascinated.”
“Of course you are. All humans are beguiled by our presence. Where did you get the ointment?”
“From a friend. A witch. We were talking about FaeryTown and she knows I like to explore and learn new things. I won’t touch anything.”
The faery smirked and her wings snapped out behind her, shimmering madly as if a disco ball hung overhead and beamed upon the gossamer appendages.
“Beautiful,” Kaz offered, but as a means to ingratiate himself to her, who he suspected was suspicious as hell. And for good reason.
“Are you one of those who get off on wings?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I would never—” Really? Yes, he could believe some might have a kink for wings. They were certainly...intriguing. And did she smell like a summer meadow? “I’ve said the wrong thing. I have a habit of that.”
A man stumbled down the hallway, using the wall for support, and clutching an arm across his bare, thin chest. At first glance, he looked a heroin addict, but Kaz knew he could only be a dust junkie. The vampire shoved past Kaz, brushed up against the faery, and she turned and led him toward the door.
Using the faery’s distraction, Kaz quickly stepped toward the hanging beads blocking a doorway. He slipped through the beads, wincing as they clattered. Not much time for reconnaissance. He made his way forward through the neon brightness of what initially appeared to be some kind of opium den with low, velvet couches and people lying on them in various states of disorientation.
Not people. Vampires.
He clenched his fist about an invisible stake. He didn’t feel compelled to take the stake out of his pocket. A stoned vamp should give him little worry. Unless that vamp was high on Magic Dust.
Of course, if there were such a vamp in this place he would notice him because the vampire would likely be raging and begging for more of the drug.
But what Kaz did do was reach into his pocket to clasp the key he always carried. Safe. To him, the key was like a cross to some people, a symbol that gave him solace and hope.
His arm brushed a wing. Kaz turned to find a pretty faery with pink hair and wings, and nothing else on her painfully thin frame, smiling wearily up at him.
“You’ve come for me?” she asked meekly.
“Uh, no, sweetie. I’m looking around, uh, for a friend.”
Her smile fell. Bones bulged through her skin. While a human’s veins appeared blue beneath their skin, her arms were mapped with iridescent trails. She looked, literally, drained. He knew a vampire could bleed the ichor from a faery through a bite, a needle, or through an extraction process that would take greater amounts more swiftly. Poor thing.
He moved onward, hating leaving the pink faery. This was probably where she had come to die, because why else would a faery willingly submit to such torture? Did they get something out of the ichor extraction beyond pain and eventual death? It made little sense. Unless they were paid well? Perhaps to support a family in the realm of Faery?
Breathing in, he choked as his mouth began to tingle. The bitter taste returned to his tongue. Had he inhaled dust? He sucked at the insides of his cheeks to draw up saliva and swallow. The last thing he needed was a dust high. Despite not believing it could happen, he could not be sure—
A vampire lying on one of the low, velvet couches jittered so erratically, Kaz felt the urge to give him a shove so he wouldn’t land on the floor. He stopped near the vamp, looking about for the faery that may have serviced him. He noticed the crushed vial of iridescent dust near the vamp’s head.
The vampire’s eyes managed to connect with Kaz’s, even while his head shuddered back and forth on the flattened satin pillow. “Stuff isn’t working,” he said. “Need the magic.”
“You looking for Magic Dust?” Kaz squatted near the couch, but slid a hand over the pants’ pocket with the stake. “Where’d you get it last time? Here?”
“Not here.” The vamp slapped a hand to his elbow where Kaz saw the track marks. That the needle punctures had not healed told him he was a regular customer. “Nothing from this shit, man!”
“Where’d you get the dust?”
“Not going to tell you. Stuff’s hard to find. You’ll buy it all up.”
“No, I—”
An arm gripped him by the wrist. The long fingers were boney, and he felt, with a twist, the faery he’d encountered in the entry could snap his bones. He stood, raising his free hand in surrender.
“You are leaving,” the faery commanded.
“I am leaving.” Because he wasn’t going to get anything from a dust freak in withdrawal. “I have to ask before I go.... No Magic Dust in here?”
Her violet eyes flashed wide and silver. He felt her anger in the tight coil of her wings forward about her shoulders. “Never. Now leave!”
“Forgive me.”
Kaz made way whence he’d come, not wanting to aggravate or gain new enemies. But he was aware the faery had taken out a cell phone and now spoke hastily to someone. Faeries and cell phones? For some reason that didn’t jibe with his idea of winged beings from nature.
He stepped outside the ichor den and inhaled the fresh fall air. Across the street a mortal restaurant emitted savory scents that mingled with those of nature. He made a beeline, and ordered water at the bar, and a beer. He didn’t drink the beer, but he hadn’t wanted to simply ask for water. He needed to clear his head because he felt a little muddy from the faery dust.
“Hey, buddy.” Said in a French accent, the bud-DEE sounded ridiculous.
Kaz turned slowly, looking cautiously over his shoulder at the man who jittered like a dysfunctional video-game avatar. His eyes were black because his pupils were enlarged. His fangs were down. He was higher than the top of the Eiffel Tower. And stupid as hell.
Eyes darting side to side, and hands jammed into his holey windbreaker pockets, the vamp asked, “Did I hear you say you got some Magic Dust?”
Bingo. This wasn’t a source, but the idiot was looking for the same thing Kaz was. Must have followed him out from the ichor den.
“Maybe.” Kaz turned back to his water and tapped the glass with his fingertips. Turning his back to a vamp was not wise, but he sensed he had the upper hand with this one.
“I got cash, buddy. I need some, like seriously.”
“Not in here,” Kaz said, and stood. As he passed the vampire, he said, “Follow me.”
Passing a gaggle of giggling faeries, Kaz merely shook his head. No time for fascination now. As soon as he turned down a dark alleyway, Kaz turned, stake in hand, and shoved the strung-out longtooth against the brick wall. The vampire took one look at the titanium stake and yelped.
“Yep, you picked the wrong guy,” Kaz confirmed. “Answer my question and you won’t feel titanium pierce your heart.”
“Hey, buddy! Can’t you see I’m jonesing here? I thought you had dust?”
“I have something that’ll kill you more sweetly.” He tapped the stake against the vampire’s chest. “Right here is where it’ll go. I can feel your heart racing.”
“It’s the dust, buddy. It’s like a train that never stops. I want to ride it all night.”
“Where did you get the Magic Dust?”
“I don’t have any, buddy. Didn’t you get that?”
“I’m talking about the stuff you bought before you needed to find more.”
“Hey! Get that thing away from my heart, buddy. Ah, hell, I can’t think straight with you acting like some kind of slayer.”
“I am a slayer.”
The vampire hissed and spread his mouth wide, threatening with a fanged sneer. But it was a little late for scare tactics.
“Not impressed.” Kaz turned the stake upright and, inches from the vampire’s face, depressed the paddles. The pointed business end of the stake pinioned out.
Again the vampire yelped.
“Where did you get the dust?” Kaz repeated.
“Not sure, buddy. It was somewhere on the right bank.”
“That rules out half of Paris. Keep thinking. Focus on the stake. See that end? It’s nice and pointy. Bet it hurts like a mother. You want this instead of the sweet high dust can give you?”