Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Please accept my sincerest apologies,” he said bringing my hand to his lips for light kiss on my knuckles. “Just my luck to trip the belle of the ball.”

  He gave a half-smile, as if he were truly rueful of his bad luck. But his gray eyes examined me like I was an interesting insect he wanted to pin to his collection. I had the distinct impression he saw far more than I wanted him to know.

  “Thank you.” I forced a small smile of my own and tugged my hand from his fingers. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to talk to the candidate.”

  “No need to rush,” the man replied, his gaze flicking to Nick and back to me. “These parties last all evening. You have plenty of time to wait for the flock to disperse.”

  “You come to these things often?” Nick dropped his hand from my arm and angled toward the man as if settling in for long conversation.

  My shoulders tightened at the thought of spending another minute talking to this human. He made me more uncomfortable than any other human I’d met.

  “I’ve been to several over the years,” the man replied. “I make a point to welcome newcomers to the table. Bentley’s not the only one running for the open position on the council, but he’s certainly the most popular.”

  “You’re on the council,” Nick said.

  The man extended his hand to Nick. “Dorian Archer. I’ve been the head of the Council of Magic Control since we first realized what an incredible resource the djinn are.”

  Incredible resource? My teeth clenched at the callous comment, as if my people were just ore to be mined. This man controlled the lives of thousands of djinn. He and the other council members had ordered my execution. I wanted to gather all the magic I could reach and rip him apart. My skin grew warm as the magic rose to the surface, and my head began to pound.

  Nick clasped Archer’s hand. “Nick Morgan.”

  “Morgan…” Archer said slowly. “Any relation to John Morgan of Morgan Music Studios?”

  “My uncle,” Nick answered with a grimace.

  Archer’s face softened, but his colorless eyes remained flat. “My condolences for your loss. Rest assured, the council and the police are doing everything in our power to recover the escaped djinn who murdered him.”

  My hands curled into fists at my sides, my fingernails pinching my palms. I was already weak from creating our wardrobe illusions, and the fever of my magic was making me lightheaded. I had to fight to push the magic back and force myself to adopt my neutral mask before I did anything I’d regret. If anything slipped, I had a feeling Archer would know exactly who I was.

  “Did you know I talked to her before she escaped custody?” Nick crossed his arms, looking intently at Archer. “She claimed she was innocent. The she arrived in time to scare off the real killer and tried to staunch my uncle’s bleeding.”

  “Really?” Archer said. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Everyone lies when they get caught, human or djinn.”

  “You treat them like animals, yet they’re just like humans when they lie?” I blurted. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Archer focused those unnerving gray eyes on me. I sensed Nick stiffen at my side.

  “Djinn are very much like us,” Archer said. “Magic is really the only difference. The problem is it’s not just an ability they have. It’s part of their genetic makeup, woven in their DNA.”

  “Why is that a problem?” I matched his stare with my own, refusing to be cowed by the way his eyes bored into mine. It wasn’t smart talking like this; I was barely holding it together and if I let anything slip, I had a feeling he would know exactly who I was. But I couldn’t stay silent at his hypocrisy.

  “Because of the energy crisis.” Archer sighed. “You’re too young to remember, but when the oil fields dried up, modern life ground to a screeching halt. The cost of living skyrocketed overnight as fuel became the most precious commodity in the world. No one could get to work. No one could get food. Thousands of people right here in LA, and millions more in other big cities, starved to death because food couldn’t be shipped in. There were riots in the streets, gangs roving the city, stealing food and other basic supplies. The city reeked with the smell of death.”

  A few people around us glanced at Archer as he spoke, and discreetly moved away until the three of us had a pocket of relative privacy. My own eyes widened at the dire circumstances he described. I hadn’t realized things had been so bad—but that wasn’t an excuse for enslaving djinn.

  “Now there were other energy sources, of course,” he continued. “But solar panels in Death Valley and windmill farms in Oregon didn’t provide nearly enough power to keep the nation running, not to mention all the infrastructure built for a world that ran on gas. So when we discovered djinn, and magic—a vast untapped reservoir of self-replenishing energy that could fill the void left behind when the oil ran out?” Archer chuckled and shrugged. “Of course we took advantage of that.”

  “By enslaving an entire race.”

  Nick started to take my arm, a cue to let the subject drop. I pulled away and crossed my arms, still staring down the council member before me. I couldn’t let this go.

  “Oh, we tried bargaining.” Archer shook his head. “But the first djinn king we were able to sit down with absolutely refused to help us. And in a world as bad as ours had become, only the powerful survive.”

  My ears started to roar, my vision reddening on the edges. I was so spitting mad I could barely even breathe. He spoke as if humans were entitled to whatever life they wanted, no matter who they stepped on to get there.

  “You said their magic being woven into their DNA was a problem, but isn’t that the whole reason for their—” Nick glanced at me apologetically, “—enslavement?”

  “Well, what we needed to set the world straight again was the magic. So we studied them. We tried everything we could think of—blood transfusions, bone marrow transplants. But as it turns out, you can’t separate the magic from the djinn.”

  My eyes narrowed, my neutral mask slipping. They had experimented on my people, tried to rob them of their power. I remembered the way the enchantment around the cell at the police station had started pulling at my magic the instant I’d set foot in it, thousand of little pinpricks under my skin amplifying my exhaustion. I could only imagine how much worse it would have been for the first djinn trapped in the human world.

  Archer turned his gaze back to me. “I see you disapprove, miss…”

  I breathed deep, tried to calm my pounding heart. “Alice Callum.”

  “Alice,” he said, as if were friends. “You have a good heart, I understand that. But without djinn, your way of life would be impossible. Remember that the next time the power goes out.”

  Music came on, filling the room with an infectious beat.

  Nick slid his arm around me. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Archer. I think we’ll enjoy the dance floor while we wait for the crowd to thin out.”

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Archer replied, his eyes on mine.

  Nick pulled me away, walking briskly to the open area in front of the stage where several other couples danced. “Are you insane?” he hissed. “You are an escaped slave condemned for murder. You can’t draw attention to yourself like that!”

  “Someone has to say something, or the abuses of slavery will never stop!” I spoke through gritted teeth, letting Nick guide me along.

  “That someone doesn’t have to be you,” Nick said. “Especially not when you’re on the run.”

  We reached the dance floor and I stopped at the edge, watching the other humans glide and twirl around the floor. The women’s dresses swished as they spun, most of them moving perfectly in sync with their partners, while others enjoyed the music alone. It was hypnotizing to watch, and like nothing I’d ever seen before.

  Nick tugged, his arm still around my back, but I held fast. He dropped his arm and faced me with a sigh. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” I said, gesturing at the dancing humans
. My anger melted away, and I swallowed hard. I’d make a fool of myself if I tried dancing like that.

  “I know how.” Nick offered me his hand. “Do you trust me?”

  I glanced at his open palm, then looked back at his face. His mouth quirked up in a half-grin, his eyes warm and laughing as he watched me debate. It wasn’t the full breathtaking smile he’d used to smooth our escape from the waitress at the cafe, but it did make my heart skip a beat.

  “Why should I trust you?” I murmured. “You don’t trust me.”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t turned you in yet.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Come on, dance with me,” Nick said. “You’re drawing attention again.”

  A peek over my shoulder proved him right. People were watching, some annoyed that we were just standing there, others with open curiosity on their faces, as if waiting to see what I would choose.

  Straightening my shoulders, I slipped my hand in Nick’s and let him pull me out onto the dance floor. He angled his hand so we were palm to palm, and slid his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer. Then he started dancing, the tension in his arm and the firm hand on my back guiding me along with him so my steps weren’t as fumbling as I’d expected.

  He swept me around the dancing area in an unspoken rhythm with the other couples, never getting too close. Just when I thought I understood the pattern of the steps, he pushed me out with the hand on my waist, guiding me in to a spin and then tugging me close again with the hand holding mine. He slipped his other hand around my back again, warm and firm as we kept swaying.

  “See?” he murmured. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

  My cheeks heated as he gazed down at me. “Maybe, but don’t forget why we’re here.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat and looked past me.

  I followed suit, looking over Nick’s shoulder at the crowd as we made another circuit around the dance floor. One side of the room was fuller than the other, a throng of people still waiting to see Bentley. It might be awhile before we had a chance to get close to him.

  “I don’t see Maguire anywhere,” Nick said. “Do you?”

  I scanned the crowd again. “No.”

  Another turn around the dance floor and I still hadn’t spotted Sebastian anywhere. “Maybe we should—”

  Nick stopped abruptly, his grip tightening to keep me from spinning off without him. When I steadied, I looked up and saw his eyes had hardened as he stared beyond me.

  “Mind if I cut in?” said a familiar voice.

  I turned to see Sebastian Maguire blocking our path. Other dancers swept around us as he smiled at me. He looked smug and confident despite the pair of butterfly bandages on his nose, like every woman should fall over herself to be with him. But at least he didn’t recognize me.

  “Are you so desperate for a dance partner you’ve got to steal someone else’s?” Nick said.

  “I’ve had plenty of partners,” Sebastian said, smirking behind his yellow-tinted sunglasses. “I just want to make sure this beautiful lady has a good time at the party.”

  “Actually,” I began.

  He snagged my hand and yanked me against him before I could finish, sweeping me off on the dance floor. His arm tightened around me, pressing my chest and hips against his. Cold revulsion clenched my stomach, my skin crawling at his touch.

  “Sorry to cut in so abruptly, but you looked like you needed saving.” Sebastian smirked as he propelled me around the dance floor.

  “How chivalrous of you.” I clenched my teeth, waiting for the song to end. As much as I wanted to rip away from him, it would only cause a scene. I had to blend in.

  “Chivalry is my middle name,” he said with a wink.

  I held back a snort and pointedly looked over his shoulder. His dancing wasn’t nearly as smooth as Nick’s. He held me so close his knees and toes kept hitting mine.

  “What’s your name, gorgeous?” he said.

  “Alice,” I ground out. I kept looking away, but I could practically feel his gaze slide down my neck and over my bare shoulders. It might only have been an illusion of bare skin—I was still wearing my jacket underneath—but I still had to fight not to shudder.

  “A classic name for an exotic face,” he said. “An enticing combination.”

  Bile rose in my throat. I only had to blend in for a little while longer. Surely the song would be over soon.

  Sebastian squeezed me closer, his cheek brushing mine. “You wanna slip out the back when the song’s over?” he breathed in my ear. “Your boyfriend might object, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

  Forget blending in. I couldn’t take it anymore. On the next step of the dance, I purposely stepped wrong, stomping on his foot with all my weight. He gasped and stumbled, his grip on me loosening.

  “How clumsy of me.” I slipped out of his embrace and grabbed his arm, pulling him off the dance floor.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he grunted, limping along beside me.

  We reached a table and I strong-armed him into a chair, earning the attention of a nearby white-shirted waiter. “He twisted his foot on the dance floor. Can you help?”

  “Of course.” The young man rushed to Sebastian’s side, and I slipped into the crowd before either of them could stop me.

  Free at last, I wove through the throng, heading back to where I’d last seen Nick. Another staff member passed me with a tray of appetizers. I plucked one of the little puffs off the tray and popped it in my mouth, the fruity, creamy filling sending a rush of energy to my limbs.

  Nick wasn’t where I expected to find him. I stopped and scanned the crowd again, spotting Bentley as he strode to the back door, where the white shirts came and went with their trays of drinks and food. My brows furrowed as I watched him slip away from his adoring throng. This was his party; why was he leaving?

  I looked around for Nick again, but my partner was nowhere to be found. This was our chance to corner Bentley and find out what he knew about Morgan, away from everyone else. I looked back to the staff door in time to see Morgan’s secret contact disappear.

  Grabbing a fistful of my skirt, I strode toward the staff door. I had a job to do whether Nick was at my side or not.

  It was time to get some answers.

  17

  A pair of white-shirted staff members stared open mouthed as I dashed through the staff door. The bright light of the service corridors made me pause, blinking as my eyes adjusted. One short corridor continued straight to the delivery entrance Nick had wanted to come through, with several wide doorways on the right side of the hall that must have led to the kitchen, judging by the noise and bustle emanating from beyond the wall.

  To my right, another long, brightly lit corridor ran the length of the grand hall I’d just left. Movement at the far end caught my eye, and I rushed after it. Where was Bentley going?

  I reached the far end of the hall, expecting to turn down another corridor. Instead, I found a stairway to the next floor. I held up my skirt a little more to hurry up the steps, my feet pounding a staccato rhythm that echoed in the tight stairwell. On the second level, I started jogging down the corridor to catch up to Bentley—and then I saw the doors leading to rooms above the kitchen. With a sigh, I cracked open the first door. Darkness greeted me. I closed it with a soft snick and hurried to the next one. I repeated the process and again found nothing.

  I was closing the second door when the third door opened. My heart leapt into my throat, and I darted into the dark room I’d just checked, pushing the door mostly closed behind me. I held my breath, waiting for someone to come open the door and find me, but it never happened. I heard the soft snick of a door closing, then light footsteps padding away, getting fainter. Slowly pulling open the door, I peeked into the bright hallway. A black-clad figure stalked down the hall away from me. My mouth dropped open. Layers of dark fabric hid all clues about the figure’s identity, but I recognized the wardrobe, the way they walked.
r />   It was Morgan’s killer.

  The figure stopped at the last door of the corridor, then slowly, silently opened it. A murmuring voice filtered out into the hall with pauses between speaking, as if someone was on the phone. The figure vanished from view as they stepped inside the room.

  I slipped into the hall and hurried after them. Never mind cornering Bentley. If I could subdue the killer, this could all be over tonight.

  I paused at the door the killer had opened and peered inside the lit room. Bentley stood in the far corner facing a window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a phone to his ear. Morgan’s killer crept toward him.

  “I love you too, sweetheart,” Bentley murmured. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  He slipped the phone in his other pocket. The killer stalked closer, nearly behind him. It was now or never.

  I dashed into the room, my dress swishing around my legs. They both heard the sound and started to turn. I leapt toward the killer, slamming into their side and knocking them to the ground.

  Bentley whipped around, his eyes widening when he saw us. “What is going on?”

  The figure’s leg shot out and connected with my shin. I gasped and stumbled as pain radiated from the spot. My opponent flipped to their feet and charged after me, hitting my waist like a football player. I grabbed them before they could flip me over, letting their momentum push me back. Then I slammed an elbow into their back between the shoulder blades. They collapsed with a grunt. But they swept an arm into my legs and I tripped, landing on my back with a thud.

  The figure in black regained their feet as Bentley edged around us toward the door. My dress slowed me down—it might have been an illusion, but it still behaved like a real dress—but I rolled to my feet a second later and tackled my foe again. All I had to do was pin them to the ground.

  But they were faster than me, spinning away from my grab and planting a kick straight in my belly.