Karen Chance, Marjorie M Liu, Yasmine Galenorn, Eileen Wilks

by Inked (lit)

  Now, I cautiously maneuvered over the cobblestones, sticking close to the entrance, hoping the Svartan wouldn’t stand me up. But just as I was about ready to leave, there he was, dressed in black tunic and trousers, a silhouette gliding through the street, silver hair bound in a braid, a smile on his face.

  Trillian reached out his hands and I took them, my heart jumping a beat. I pressed in, kissed him deeply and he returned the fire with his own.

  “You came,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  “I promised. Did you think I’d space out?” I gazed into his eyes and saw a flicker of confusion. “Idiom from my mother’s world. You really didn’t think I’d come, did you?” Could he be as nervous as I was?

  “I didn’t know. To be honest, I haven’t been able to think of anything else today. The image of your face haunts me.”

  I smiled, feeling unaccountably happy. But all I said was, “Is Roche here?”

  And then, he was all business again. Trillian tugged my hand, pulling me behind him. “Yes, he is. Follow me and be careful. Did you bring something to bind him with should we catch him?”

  “Right here.” I touched the shoulder pouch hanging from my right arm. Inside, I had several things that could stop Roche, short of a bodyguard or a mage. The agency didn’t know I carried them, or they’d take them away. But my sisters and I had accumulated a trunk filled with goodies that bordered on illegal. We figured we needed the advantage, given our faulty powers.

  In my bag, among other things, I’d tucked a pair of iron handcuffs, careful not to touch them with bare skin. Not only were they iron, but they were bespelled with confusion magic, guaranteed to knock any Fae on his butt.

  Torture device? Yeah…the iron would burn his skin until he was locked up and they were removed. But considering Roche’s crimes, I wasn’t exactly feeling merciful. In fact, Delilah thought I was an ogre for using them, while Menolly just gave me a knowing look. But I was rapidly learning that the only way to win with the YIA was to play down and dirty.

  I also had a bottle of pixie dust that I’d picked up at the flea market. Guaranteed to turn anybody who breathed it into a klutz. And resting next to the handcuffs and the pixie dust was a scroll that I’d spent a lot of money on. The magic was deadly, and if I broke open the wax seal on the charm and inserted Roche’s name into the spell as I read it, he’d never walk this world again.

  Death magic was more common than anybody wanted to admit. I didn’t like using it—there was something too familiar, too enticing about it, but with his track record I wasn’t about to leave my ass uncovered. The best of circumstances would leave me holding the death charm for a different time, but it felt good to have a little insurance tucked away.

  Trillian led me along a winding path through the maze of carts and awnings and tents and canopies. We passed by the stalls of dancing girls and whores, of junkies and beggars sleeping it off by the edge of the road. Trillian paid them no attention, but my gaze flickered to the faces as we passed.

  My mother told us that humans envisioned a utopia when they thought of Faerie Land. Then again, most didn’t really believe Y’Eírialiastar existed. But the truth would shock them. My father’s people were all too susceptible to the same problems that plagued mortals. Poverty, addiction, violence…we had it all.

  We passed a Sawberry Fae hawking doses of kysa for ten pen each. Opium went for ten times the price. He caught my gaze and winked. “Care for a trip, my dear? Make life more bearable? Only ten pen.”

  He reached out to grab my arm as I pushed past him.

  Before I could react, Trillian had hold of the man’s wrist, twisting it so that it was bent back in the wrong direction. “Touch her again and I’ll cut it off.”

  The Sawberry winced. “All right, all right. You wouldn’t want to sell her, would you? She’d fetch a—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish because Trillian’s arm was suddenly wrapped around his neck, a knife aimed at his jugular.

  “Don’t touch her, don’t speak to her, don’t even think about her. Are we clear?” A dangerous light flickered across the Svartan’s face, and I realized that he was ready to cut the man’s throat and he wasn’t even sweating.

  “Yes,” the Sawberry croaked, rubbing his neck as Trillian released him. He averted his gaze from mine and scurried back to his tent.

  Trillian slid the knife back into its sheath, which was hanging at his side and shrugged. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand. “This isn’t the safest place for women.”

  I took his hand and followed. The stars were emerging, brilliant and beautiful and shining. The Moon Mother watched over us and I felt her presence in the pit of my stomach. She was nearing full, and the closer we got, the more I craved a man’s touch. Trillian’s hand was hot against mine. I tried to keep my mind on our mission—on finding Roche—but it was hard with him touching me.

  “There,” he hissed. “Up ahead. See that tent? A gambler named Bes runs a den there. Roche is there. I checked earlier and he was deep into the game. What do you want to do? Will he recognize you?”

  I’d been careful, but an alarm rang in the back of my head. If the YIA was setting me up to fail, maybe they had leaked info about me to the rumor mill. Maybe Roche knew I was on his tail.

  “I don’t know,” I said after a moment. “I can’t guarantee that he won’t know who I am.”

  “Come with me,” Trillian said, pulling me toward a nearby stall. The vendor was sitting beside a rack of scarves and drapes, drinking goblin brandy. The stench filtered up to my nose and set me to sneezing, it was so thick with peppercorns and keva root.

  “Let me see…This will work,” Trillian said, choosing a sheer ankle-length cloak. Filmy and the color of amethyst, it was hooded and would cloak my face while still allowing me to see through the silken material. He draped the cloth around my shoulders and I slid the hood up.

  Trillian gently tucked my hair inside the hood, making sure my errant curls were hidden from view.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, tracing my chin with his fingertips, gently running his fingers over my mouth. I parted my lips and he slid his index finger inside. Closing my lips around his finger, I swirled my tongue against the flesh, gently running my teeth over his skin as I pulled away.

  He caught a harsh breath. “Do you know how lucky you are that I am not like the majority of my kinsmen?”

  “Do you realize how lucky you are that I’m not like my sisters?” I countered, wishing we were anywhere but here. I hesitated. Would it be so bad to forget about Roche? To pretend I didn’t know he was here, to run off to an inn with Trillian and slide my naked body across his? But then my father’s training kicked in and I let out a long sigh. “Roche shouldn’t be able to recognize me now. Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”

  Trillian laughed, then. “Camille, somehow I think that if you lose anything, it won’t be your courage. Come, pretend you’re with me and keep quiet until we find him. They don’t like women in the dens but they’ll allow them if they’re with a man. We can get a feel for what’s going on and go from there.”

  He paid the man and we headed back to Bes’s den. Trillian motioned for me to hang back a few steps while he talked to the two guards at the entrance.

  The vagabond gambling dens were usually owned by criminals. Gaming wasn’t illegal, but the safer dens were found in buildings and guaranteed the gambler safe passage in and out of the game rooms unless they invited trouble. The vagabonds’ dens were strictly enter-at-your-own-risk.

  Suddenly chilled, I realized how grateful I was that Trillian was with me. I could fight down and dirty, but the dens were dangerous places, and without my sisters, I felt vulnerable. I shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to get this over with.

  Trillian motioned for me to follow him inside. The tent was a two-room affair, with the main room taken up by the den. There were two low-rise tables, around which sat a dozen men—six at each table. I glanced over the crowd
and there he was. Roche.

  His eyes were glazed and he looked rough, his face covered with stubble, his hair unkempt, and his clothes filthy. Worse yet, he was stinking up the place. I wondered how long it had been since he’d had a bath. A pile of coins sat in front of him and he toyed with them, rolling them over and over in his hand.

  Trillian sauntered up to the table and spoke to the dealer, who nodded curtly and pointed to a chair. As he sat down, he motioned for me to stand behind him. As I slowly crossed the floor, my gaze demurely pointed at my feet, something felt off. Very off. As though hidden eyes were watching me.

  I leaned over Trillian’s shoulder to whisper to him but then stopped. Roche was still turning over the coins in his hand, but his gaze was firmly fastened on me. Catching my breath, I placed a hand on Trillian’s shoulder, squeezing in the hope that he’d get my message that something was up.

  “In or out?” the dealer asked him.

  Trillian tossed a few coins on the table. “In.”

  Roche glanced down at the pile of coins in front of him and anted up, then added twenty pen more. The bets went round the table, with each player meeting or raising the bet. Roche held up the dice and pitched them on the table. Out of five dice, they landed a total of twenty-one pips. He frowned as the dealer jotted down the number. Round the table they went, each man taking his turn. By the time Trillian was up, Roche was still the leader. Trillian scooped up the dice and neatly tossed them. They rebounded off the bumper on the other side and came up four sixes and a three.

  “Twenty-seven. You’re the current leader. What’s your pleasure? Let stand or bet for the second round?”

  Trillian shook his head. “Stand.”

  Roche snorted. “That the best you can do, Svartan?” He tossed another three coins on the pot. “Re roll.” The dice came his way and he shook them in his hand, blowing on them for luck, then tossed them.

  The dealer grunted. “Twenty-three pips. Still under. Next?”

  Roche slammed his hand on the table but said nothing as the other four players took their turns. Two walked out, their pockets clean. The other two bet again but neither one hit the mark and they both folded.

  Trillian glanced at Roche. He could either match what had been added to the pot and toss again for the third and final round, or he could stand on his mark and see if Roche bested him.

  “Stand,” he said, giving Roche a faint grin that bordered on patronizing.

  That’s the way, I thought. Push him over the edge.

  Roche took the bait. He motioned to the dealer. “Kysa.” As he lit up the hookah the dealer offered him, he glanced at me again. “What would you think of a higher wager—just between us? I’m sure I can make it worth your while.”

  Trillian grunted. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A night with your woman.” Roche gave him a lopsided grin. “Can’t see her face but from the walk, she’s got it where it counts.”

  What the fuck? The look on his face was that of a mad dog’s. I stiffened, then it occurred to me this was the perfect way to get alone with him. I forced myself to relax, wondering if Trillian would think of that little fact, too.

  Giving no sign that the request had unnerved him, Trillian leaned back in his chair, glancing up at me. “What makes you think she’s for rent?”

  Roche’s breath came heavy as he leaned across the table. “Every coin in my pocket against a night with her.”

  Trillian frowned. “Let me consider it while I have a drink.” He motioned to me. “We’ll be back. Have an account of how much you’re willing to wager.” He paused, not turning as we reached the door. “And don’t even think about lightening the pile on the table. I know exactly how much is there. I’m not lenient with thieves,” he added. He motioned to the boy who was running drinks for the players. “Tygerian brandy. Now.”

  The boy scurried off and within seconds was back with a shot of brandy. Trillian tossed him a coin and then motioned for me to follow him out of the den.

  “This is the way for me to get to him,” I said when we were out of earshot.

  “It’s dangerous. Did you see the glint in his eye? He’s hunting, and he’s after you.” Trillian shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him, even for a few moments. I’ll follow you, of course, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get in there in time to stop him.”

  “I need to take him down,” I said. “At first, I just wanted to save my job, but after seeing the look in his eyes…” My words drifted off as I glanced back at the tent. “Too many people are dead because of him, including his own family. They need justice. If I don’t do it, nobody else will.”

  Trillian leaned down and brushed my brow with a kiss. “And this is what I saw in you the other day in the bar. I may be a mercenary, but I’ve got a code of ethics. And you, Camille D’Artigo, exceed my standards.”

  I shivered. “I don’t want to do this, but I’ve got to. You’ll back me up?”

  He nodded. “I promise you on my honor. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent him from hurting you.”

  I patted my bag. “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it.” Checking to make sure my stiletto was strapped to my thigh for easy access, I straightened my shoulders and drew the hood back over my head. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Trillian parted the flaps of the tent. “As you wish,” he said, but his eyes told me he wasn’t at all happy about the plan.

  4

  ROCHE jerked his head up as Trillian slid back into his chair. He looked hungry, like he hadn’t eaten in a long time, but it wasn’t food he was looking for.

  Trillian glanced at the pile of coins, then nodded. Apparently everything was still there. “I accept your wager. Empty your purse and pockets. I want to see everything you have on you.”

  Roche tossed his purse on the table. He slowly reached into his pockets. I held my breath, but he brought his hands into sight again, filled with coins. Large denominations, at that. He dumped them on the table as Trillian motioned to the dealer. The man, a burly bald Fae who was part-goblin by the looks of him, opened the purse and up-ended it over the pile of coins. The bet had tripled. I wondered if Roche had a stash of money hidden somewhere. He surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to wager everything on the chance of winning a night with me.

  Trillian glanced at me and I gave him a slight nod. He picked up the dice and tossed them to Roche. “Winner takes all.”

  Roche sucked in a deep breath and let the dice fly. Everybody who was in the tent was watching the game by now and leaned in to see what he would land.

  The dealer carefully tallied the points. “Twenty-six pips.”

  Trillian picked up the dice and tensed. I knew he was going to skew the numbers. Whether by magic or sleight of hand, he’d lose. He casually bounced them across the table. They skidded across the surface to ricochet off one of the bumpers and land squarely beside the pile of coins. Two fours, a six, a three, and a five. Twenty-two pips.

  “Twenty-two pips. You lose.”

  Roche triumphantly gathered up the coins. “She’s mine for the night. You aren’t going to try to back out on me, are you?”

  Trillian shook his head. “No, but I claim the right to wait outside.” He stared at Roche. “After all, you can’t expect me to trust you.”

  A dark cloud swept across Roche’s face, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Whatever you say, but no interference.” His voice was ragged.

  I shivered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He could do a lot of damage in the time it would take Trillian to bust through the door. But then I thought of the women and children Roche had murdered. Lathe thought he could break me with this one. I’d show him just how freakin’ strong I was and bust his balls, and in the process I’d take down a killer.

  Trillian stepped outside and I followed. Roche followed me. He was fixated—I could feel his energy sliming around in my aura.

  To calm my
nerves, behind the cowl of my drape I kept my mind on the surprise he had coming. Maybe I should just use the death scroll the minute we were alone, but the Moon Mother’s energy was working on me. The hunt wouldn’t be nearly so much fun if I gave him an easy exit. No, if I could capture him alive, the families of the dead would have the right to request blood-vengeance. And they would be harsher than I could ever be.

  Trillian put himself between Roche and me. “Your name, first? I won’t let anybody touch her without a name.”

  Roche arched one eyebrow. “She must really be good,” he said. “They call me Roche. Follow me.”

  We followed him through the maze of vendors until we came to Azyur Boulevard, where he turned left into a long, narrow street. The streets were lined with worn cobblestones and the buildings were old, two-story stone and mortar. He stopped in front of a seedy-looking dive. The sign read calisto’s.

  “Second floor,” he said, leading us in through the foyer. The innkeeper—a short, squat rawhead—was sitting behind a roughly hewn counter, his feet propped up on the wood, a bottle of booze in his hands. He cast a quick look our way, then went back to his drinking. We couldn’t count on him for help. Rawheads were nastier than goblins, out for themselves and nobody else.

  We headed up the narrow stairwell to the second floor. Roche stopped in front of a door that was scarred with the wounds of past intruders. A patch job covered a fist-sized hole.

  He turned to Trillian. “As agreed, you stay out here.”

  Trillian shrugged. “Play by the rules and we won’t have a problem.”

  Roche unlocked the door and ushered me into the dingy room. It stunk of stale food and the faint scent of urine. I glanced around. The bed was a single cot with a thin mattress and ratty spread. Movement caught my attention and I looked closer. Fleas. Gross.