The Invisible Entente: a prequel novella

by Krista Walsh

  “If you say the word, I’ll see to it,” I said.

  Tiffany’s mouth flattened into a straight line as she mustered her resolve.

  “I request the death of Jermaine Hershel. So let it be.”

  With a final nod, I dropped my email address into her mind so she could forward my nominal fee, and vanished.

  ***

  I opened my eyes to find Vidar, my German shepherd, staring at me. He tilted his head and emitted a low keening noise that told me I’d been gone long enough for him to notice. The stickiness on my face and hands suggested he’d tried for a while to wake me.

  I stroked his ears and rolled out of bed, checking the time. Five-thirty in the morning. I was running late. Throwing on my exercise gear, I clipped Vidar and Baxter, my golden retriever, to my waist and hit the streets.

  My morning run was my favorite part of the day. No matter what stresses swept around me, this was my time to let them go. I also used the time as an opportunity to plan the completion of my contracts.

  Finding Jermaine would be easy. For such a small man, he left a large wake — mostly the stench of putrid immorality, but also of power. How he chose to use his power was infantile, but no one could deny he had it.

  My sneakers hit the pavement in a steady rhythm that allowed me to step through my plans. In the early morning no one else shared my quiet loop of streets, so I faded out the houses around me and the sounds of traffic two streets over. I was aware of nothing but the motion of my body and the sound of my footsteps, as paced as a metronome to a melody only I could hear.

  Tiffany’s idea to knock him into his desk had potential, but left too much room for error. I preferred quick and simple.

  The other issue I foresaw was Jermaine himself. Sneaking up on him would be next to impossible — the man’s senses were more cat than human. I hated cats. Too unpredictable and untrustworthy.

  I returned home and my task faded from my mind as though I’d never had a conversation in the early morning hours through a psychic connection. I showered, fed the dogs, went to work, came home, took the dogs for another walk — all without giving Jermaine a single moment of my attention.

  Balance.

  The clock struck eight when I took myself to his apartment. The cloudy night blocked the moon except for the slightest glow, and the dying leaves in their breathtaking colors took on the haunted shadows of a coming rainfall.

  I pulled the collar up on my white coat to block out the wind and approached Jermaine’s low-rise building. The last time I’d been there had been over a year ago, when he’d tried to rope me into some foolish power-grabbing plot. But he had overestimated my interest in power. I possessed what I required to do my job and desired no more.

  Choosing a side door instead of the front entrance, I squeezed the handle and pulled until the lock snapped, then let myself into a brightly lit corridor.

  I had no fears about being seen — no one ever associated the sight of me with any mishap.

  I saw to that.

  The elevator took me to the top floor, and I let myself into Jermaine’s apartment, leaving the door ajar behind me. He’d detect I was there anyway, but it seemed polite to give him an additional minute’s warning.

  His apartment was tidy and simple, the furniture sparse and new. None of it looked any more lived-in than the last time I’d been there — except for his home lab. The desk was cluttered with various racks and hot plates, vials, two computer monitors, and some questionable test samples in a glass case. Obviously my turning him down hadn’t deterred the man from his mission.

  I made myself comfortable and, using the time to my advantage, took a second look around the living room. Aside from the white couches, an ugly red and black carpet stretched out under my feet. Whoever had chosen the décor hadn’t done a stellar job at measurement, and the rug stopped just short of the couch. I tucked the toes of my right foot underneath and crossed my left leg over my knee. Then I relaxed into the cushions and stared into the reflection of his obnoxiously large television screen so I could watch the door.

  My timing, it turned out, had been near perfect, as he entered his apartment no more than five minutes later. His steps were slow and wary, and I caught his hesitation at the door on finding it already open. The room flared with an abrupt flash of light as he summoned a ball of lightning into his hand, but the magic didn’t concern me.

  “I know you’re in there,” he called from the doorway. Stepping inside, he pushed the door closed, the spell still glowing in his outstretched hand. “Show yourself.”

  I didn’t move, feeling no need to put him at ease. He edged farther into the room, paused at seeing my red hair over the back of his couch, and looked up into the television. Although I couldn’t see clearly in the reflection, I sensed our gazes meeting, and his shoulders relaxed.

  He took three long, slow strides to come around the couch to face me, dropping the spell as he crossed his arms. I folded my hands on my knee and tilted my head to better watch his expression in the dim light.

  “Vera. What a not-so-unexpected surprise. I’d ask to what I owe the honor of your visit, but I can take a wild guess. Stephanie?” His brow furrowed when I didn’t reply. “Lisa?”

  “Tiffany,” I said.

  “Ah.” Jermaine snapped his fingers. “I knew she was a mistake. It’s always the clingy ones that have connections to dark magic.” He scanned me over. “So what will it be? Broken neck? Poison? Was I already dead the second I walked through my front door?”

  The final question came out in a mock film-noir tone, a shifty smile on his lips. Yet under the overconfident expression, I detected a hint of a tremor in his words. For a man so used to being superior in all his encounters, knowing he was at a disadvantage didn’t appear to sit well with him.

  “I haven’t decided,” I replied. “Do you have a preference?”

  “Um…how about not at all?”

  “We both know that’s not an option. There was a transaction.”

  Jermaine released a breath and dropped down on the matching leather chair across from me. He dragged his fingers over his face and leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees.

  “What are my options?”

  I said nothing, not wanting to influence his decision.

  “All right, what if we both get piss drunk and you push me out the window?”

  I shrugged my eyebrows and gestured to the fridge, an invitation for him to pour.

  His eyes darted to the window, and he licked his lips, no doubt thinking about the drop.

  “No, if I were going to go that way, I’d want it to be from a height that would leave no chance of some freak survival.” His eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “What if we make a deal?”

  I watched him closely, and he frowned.

  “You’re not much of a talker, are you? All right, what if we face off and you try to kill me. You win, then fine, I’m dead and your contract has been filled. You lose, you let me walk. At least you can say you made the attempt. If I ever see Tiffany again, I’ll walk with a noticeable limp. What do you say?”

  I debated his proposal. While I took my responsibility as vengeance goddess seriously, I also had a great deal of discretion in how I ran my contracts. Not having many competitors in the business allowed me a certain freedom of choice. If Jermaine found a way to best me, why shouldn’t he be left to walk away? I guessed it would only be a matter of time before someone else summoned me to try again. And the potential challenge sparked my blood in ways my calling hadn’t done in a good many years.

  “Very well,” I said, and couldn’t prevent my lips from twitching upward when his eyebrows shot toward his hairline.

  “Really?”

  “I have no quarrel with you, Jermaine. If you can survive me, you can walk.”

  “Wow,” he said, still shocked. “You’re decent people, Vera. Thanks.”

  I didn’t want to dampen his gratitude by expressing my lack of faith that he’d win. I was willing to be impres
sed.

  “Let me grab that beer first, yeah? I’m parched. Can I get you anything?”

  He pushed off the chair and pointed at me. I shook my head and watched him approach, pass close enough to me that I could have punched him in the side if I’d chosen to. When he was about to step off the hideous rug, I used the foot hooked under the edge to lift it. He tripped, stumbling forward to smash his head against the corner of the granite counter before sprawling on the floor.

  I rose to my feet and stepped toward him. He’d left a generous bloodstain on the corner of the countertop, but before I could finish the task, he rolled onto his back with a groan and launched a glowing ball of electricity at my chest.

  The force of the attack threw me backward, but the back of the couch stopped my fall. My coat sizzled and smoked, and I tore it off with a curse, tossing it on the floor behind me.

  I’d liked that coat.

  The magic from the ball skittered across my skin like bugs, leaving behind nothing but bruises.

  Bracing my feet against the floor, I threw myself toward him before he had time to launch another attack. With a grin, I grabbed his arm and rolled him onto his stomach, jerking his shoulder hard enough that I felt the pop as it pulled from the socket.

  He cried out and flailed against me, but his blows fell numb against my god-imbued strength.

  I reached for his neck, and he threw his good elbow back, catching me in the gut. My breath burst from my lungs, and the moment’s hesitation gave him the opportunity to flip me over. He leaned forward with his forearm pressing into my throat. Although we both knew I could push him over with minimal effort, I held still.

  Blood trickled down his face from the gouge in his scalp and mixed in with his sweat. He panted through clenched teeth, pain etched into every line on his face. I knew I would win in the end, but saw that he would keep fighting until his last breath.

  But then he surprised me. With a growl, he shoved me harder against the floor and pushed himself off me. The sudden force smashed my head against the floorboards, my skull leaving a slight indentation as a memento. I rose to my elbows as he reached the kitchen. He wiped the blood from his head with the back of his sleeve and only succeeded in smearing more of the mess across his face.

  “I underestimated you,” he said. “If you don’t win today, you’ll just come at me again tomorrow. I know that. Give me one more shot at winning. At least that.”

  I drew myself to my feet. The challenge of the fight had been fun, but my boredom had caught up with me and I wanted only to be rid of the man. I clenched my hands at my sides and prepared to take a step toward him to finish the fight. It was then I realized my feet were stuck to the floor.

  From the kitchen, Jermaine grinned and held up a small metal remote. “Never let your foe reach his tools, Vera. Did no one ever teach you that? Now, I’ll do you the favor of not killing you, if you’re willing to return it. What do you say?”

  I said nothing. My jaw was clenched so tightly with the fury simmering in my bones that no words could come out.

  He raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “I’ll take that as a yes. But you might want to work on your articulation. Could get you into trouble one of these days. So long, Vera.”

  Jermaine hit a button and a searing heat cut through me. His apartment disappeared, replaced by an empty street on the other side of town. I collapsed into a crouch, my skin still warm from whatever rune magic had transported me, and I took my time getting back to my feet.

  For a moment I thought about returning to his apartment, but the same old boredom that plagued me kept me in place. We’d made a deal. It would be only a matter of time, I knew, and the next time I faced him would be so much more satisfying.

  *****************

  “That was…quite the story,” said the human girl. “Characters out of children’s stories and classical mythology, now old religions? I think I need to pinch myself to wake up, because this is a whole new level of trippy.”

  “Please,” Antony held up a hand, a wide smile on his face. “You ask us to believe that your entire life’s work — excuse me, other than your hole-in-the-wall bookstore, as you so charmingly put it — is to wreak vengeance for those who summon you, and yet you chose to allow this man a pardon? I’m more willing to believe this Tiffany woman summoned you a second time and asked you carry out the contract for which she had already paid you.”

  Vera stared at him, her gray eyes cold and appraising, refusing to validate his question by answering.

  “So tell us curious and doubtful folk,” said Gabe, his gaze riveted on the willowy semi-goddess across from him. “You knew Jermaine was a louse and deserved whatever he got, so why did you stop? Why didn’t you deliver the final blow when you had a chance or march back up to his apartment and finish him off?”

  Vera stared back, lowered her pale lashes in a slow blink. “Because I couldn’t care less whether he lived or died.”

  They stared at each other for almost a full minute before the Gorgon shrugged. “I’m convinced.”

  “Me, too,” said the human girl, raising her hand.

  The scarred man glanced at the girl with curiosity.

  Daphne grinned. “I wish I could have been there to watch you dislocate his shoulder. That scream would have given me sweet dreams for a year.”

  Allegra pursed her lips into a pout. “I think it is a shame he is gone. That man’s fingers worked a magic of their own.”

  Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Consider me intrigued. I didn’t think this man had any clout with women of your caliber.”

  Allegra’s pout smoothed into a smile that hinted at dark pleasures and sweet temptations. The sort of smile that made a person believe in myths of sirens seducing men to their deaths. “Would you not love to know, Fae. But Jermaine had certain charms.”

  “Why don’t you tell the class, Allegra?” said Antony sardonically. “I would say it’s your turn to share.”

  “So be it, brother mine. Feast your ears on my little tale.”

  6

  *****************

  Allegra Rossi

  “Allegra, what are you doing? You’re up next!”

  I’d heard Franco calling me from across the floor for the last three minutes and had pointedly ignored him. Franco was good for nothing except keeping the pace of the fashion show. I had my eye on a much more useful specimen of manhood.

  I had spied him almost an hour ago on my first trip down the catwalk and kept a watchful eye on him afterward, too worried that I would lose him in the crowd or that he would get bored and leave.

  He was not the most attractive man in the room — I was surrounded by fellow models and B-list celebrities who held much more visual appeal — but something about him made me wish I could step out of the show early to hunt him down.

  I licked my lips and headed to the top of the line, taking my place on the catwalk.

  The remaining time crawled by, and when the show finally wrapped up, I stepped into the crowd before it dispersed, not even removing my make-up for fear I would miss him.

  The mob pushed against me, grabbed my hands, and touched my shoulders. Their buzzing energy ran over my skin like an electric current, and my blood sang in response, craving more. My stomach grumbled, and I distracted myself by redoubling my focus on the faces around me.

  On reaching his seat, I frowned. His scruffy bearded face was nowhere to be seen.

  And yet…

  I closed my eyes and cast my mind around the room, weaving through the energy of every person in it. That power I had sensed during the show remained, and it was close.

  “Looking for me?”

  He sounded amused to find me, and yet underneath I heard the huskiness of lust. I curled my lips into a smile before turning to him.

  “As a matter of fact, I was. You caught my attention while I was up there.” I cocked my head toward the stage.

  “Was it my eyes or this stunning T-shirt?”

  My smile grew. “I was wo
ndering what a man who clearly has no interest in fashion might be doing at a fashion show.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I don’t?”

  I mimicked his expression, deliberately scanning his basic black T-shirt, old jacket, and ragged jeans, and he laughed. “All right, I was supposed to meet someone. He didn’t show.”

  “That was very foolish of him.”

  The man frowned, and a spark of anger flashed in his brown eyes. “It really was.”

  “But I consider it a fortunate turn of events.”

  His frown faded, and he stuck out his hand. “Jermaine.”

  “Allegra.”

  The warmth of his skin increased the current running through me. My heart raced and my breath hitched in my throat. I licked my lips, scanning him over again.

  Average height, plainly dressed, and unshaved, with dry skin and dark circles under his eyes…but he had more presence than the highest-titled man in the room.

  “I just need to shift into some comfortable attire, but afterward, I would very much like it if you took me to dinner.”

  His dilating pupils assured me of an affirmative answer, so I left him with a wink and a smile before melting into the crowd and returning to the dressing room.

  ***

  Lights flickered in and out of the cab as it sped down the quiet, late-night streets.

  I sat with one leg crossed over the other and brushed my toe against his calf. Although I noticed his physical reaction to my attentions, he remained a gentleman and kept his hands on his thighs, managing to maintain a dialog without drooling.

  “Where would you like to go for dinner?” he asked.

  “Someplace quiet,” I replied. “Intimate.”

  Hunger gnawed at my stomach, my head spinning with weakness. It had been too long since I had eaten, and my last meal had been less than adequate.

  Jermaine cleared his throat and wriggled in his seat. “If you don’t mind beer and leftover Chinese food, I know the most intimate place in New Haven.”