The Nine

by C. M. Stunich

  "Show me," he ordered, after what must have been thirty seconds. I heaved a sigh, then held out my wrist, defeated. There was no need for me to look and see that his fingerprints were still showing clear against my creamy white skin. I could feel them.

  Fucking Japanese heritage. If I was bronze-tanned like Chris, maybe the bruises wouldn't have been so damn obvious? Then again, I was pretty sure his tan came in a bottle because it had a little shimmer to it ...

  "Gloves and pads," Mikhail repeated, "or you go home."

  Scowling, I stared at the floor and snatched my bruised arm back from his grip. This time, he let me go with almost gentle fingers.

  "What do you say?" he murmured, expecting me to respond with the respect his position demanded. My anger was burning hot, though, and there was no way in foxfire that I'd be thanking him for his concern. Fucker.

  There was a pregnant pause between us as I continued to stare at the mat beneath our feet, my jaw and fists clenched tight. Thankfully, I'd retracted my tails and ears already—because Bex was not above yanking them in a fight—otherwise they'd be a dead giveaway for my anger.

  "Fine," Mikhail growled, "if you want to act like a child, then you'll be treated like one. Full body pads, or you're banned from The Shack until you get your magic back." He snapped the word Shack off his tongue, like it was the foulest curse imaginable.

  "What?!" I exclaimed in horror, shock breaking through my stubborn fury. "No! Fuck you, Mik, I’m not a goddamn child!”

  The ancient head of the assassins’ guild seized me by the upper arm with the speed of a striking cobra, yanking me close so he could speak into my ear.

  "You'll do as you're damn well told, Thea, or you'll be punished accordingly." His words were hissed so close to my ear that his lips brushed my skin and I was helpless to suppress a shudder. Given the situation, I'm pretty sure it would have come across as fear, thank the Fox Father. Mikhail released me and gave me a no bullshit glare before stalking out of the training center.

  I very nearly went after him and kicked him in the nuts; I had a problem with authority.

  Yup, Mikhail Ravena was a fucking dickhead.

  "Shit, girl," Bex breathed when the door to The Shack slammed shut behind our boss. "Guess you better get some pads on."

  "Hell no," I snapped. "He can't just tell me what to do like I'm some sort of …" I failed to find the right word and just waved my hand in disgust.

  "Like some sort of employee? Uh, yeah babe, he can. Worse, even. This isn't really a job you can just quit if the boss pisses you off, ya know?" She gave me a pitying look that made me grind my teeth so hard they almost cracked. "Just … wear the pads, Thea. I need this job, and my life."

  "You're undead, Bex," I corrected her, but did as I was told, following her over to the sweaty-smelling equipment cupboard and strapping on the bulky pads. "This is such bullshit," I grumbled, waddling back to the mats.

  My friend, for all her merits, really sucked at hiding her emotions, so it was pretty damn clear she was holding back laughter at seeing me head-to-toe in pads. I felt like a damn sumo wrestler, but I'd be fucked if I didn't still kick her ass.

  "Let's do this," I encouraged. "If you think I'll be slower because of this, then you're messing with the wrong kitsune."

  She snorted a laugh. "Yeah, alright, marshmallow. Let's go."

  One thing that was always consistent when sparring with other members of the guild, no one, not a single one of us, went easy on each other in training. To do so would be an insult, and only someone really stupid insults an assassin.

  That being said, Bex seriously handed me my ass. Stupid pads. Still, our session provided me the distraction I needed and I left The Shack feeling… better. If not optimistic.

  Now, all I needed for a great day was a response from Fin's future wife. But why did that thought make my stomach churn so damn much?

  To my confused delight and horror, there was a message waiting for me in the dating agency profile I'd set up to find Fin's little wifey. Revel was, as expected, extremely eager to meet. She'd written that her job had her tied up at the moment, and couldn't make it to Denver until the end of the month. Exactly two weeks after my scheduled hit on Nix Locklear.

  I groaned, tapping my phone on my face a couple of times before formulating a reply.

  As I hit send, my phone buzzed in my hand and Chris's glittery face winked at me from the screen.

  "Hey, Fae-Bitch," I greeted him, answering the call and putting the cell to my ear. "What's up?"

  "Just woke up," he yawned. "Last night was in-freaking-sane. Did you see that wood nymph that I took home? Let me tell you, girl: wood was right!"

  I snickered. "You're so crass, I love it. I also made some progress today, so you can eat your words, my cynical friend."

  "Shut the front door," he gasped. "You finally fucked that sexy as sin fanger boss? Color me impressed, babe!"

  "What? No! I mean, I found a single kitsune vixen. She lives in Japan, but she was on one of those stupid dating sites, so she must be single." I chewed at the edge of my nail, thinking about her message. "She can’t come out for a few weeks, but I pressed to see if she could just make a quick trip this week. I need my tails sorted out… badly."

  "I know, Hunty," Chris yawned. "Actually, that's why I'm calling …" His tone went cagey, and icey dread formed in my gut. "Uh, can you come over to my place? One of your exes is here. Apparently, he thought I might be able to talk sense into you or some crap? Whatever, he clearly doesn't know you, but he won’t fuck off. So can you come?"

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a long breath and counted to ten. Fucking Riot! As if he could sense the direction of my thoughts, Ziff paused with a bit of biscotti in his paws and chirped up at me.

  "Not really," I ground out. "I'm running research surveillance on the target right now." In fact, my ass was parked in a café across the road from Nix's registered place of business. I was yet to see anyone who even vaguely resembled his description though. This was going to be a long, boring week of waiting. Killing I was fine with, but the waiting part was not my cup of tea.

  "Thea babe," Chris groaned down the phone, "I'm too hungover to deal with this prick."

  There was something about the strain in his tone that made me pause and sit up a bit straighter in my seat. I was at an outdoor café, and had already drank my way through five cups of coffee while pretending to work on my laptop.

  "Fae-Bitch," I growled in my best menacing tone. "Did you get into the dust last night?"

  A long pause was all the answer I needed, and I cursed a little too loudly for polite company. "Seriously?!" I hissed at him, so furious I almost spilled my coffee.

  "I'm sorry," he whined. "I was already so drunk, and it was only the tiniest bit …"

  "I can't even believe you right now, Chris," I snapped. "You promised me. You promised me that you were done and you'd never touch it again. What the fuck, dude?"

  "I know, Thea-sweets, but you don't understand—" he started with that same bullshit that I'd already heard from him a thousand times before.

  "Save it," I snarled in an ice-cold tone of voice. "I'm coming over now to take my asshole ex off your hands, but that's it. I won’t sit with you through another dust withdrawal, Chris. This is on you this time."

  Whatever he started to say in response was cut off as I jabbed the end call button on my phone. Dust was the commonly used name for a potent and rare variety of pixie dust, harvested from pixies held in captivity like factory-farmed chickens and shaken for their dust several times a day. It was horrific and barbaric, but the dust sold for megabucks on the street, so I doubted the practice would end anytime soon.

  For supernatural creatures, dust was the most addictive substance out there: one hundred times more potent than cocaine for humans, and with a price to match. It destroyed lives, and had very nearly landed my best friend into selling his body several years ago … until I’d pulled him out of an auction and dried him out.

>   I shuddered at the memory as I slammed my laptop back into my bag and threw some money down for my coffees. It had been how Chris and I met, as I was there on a hit. But I never, ever wanted to see him on dust again. I grabbed Ziff, propped him on my shoulder, and stood up.

  "Thanks, miss," the young girl who’d been serving me gasped, as she saw the tip I'd left.

  "Have a great day, hun," I murmured, flicking my gaze over the street one last time. I'd been there for hours, and there’d been no sign of Nix Locklear. Either this was a decoy address, or he had the day off. Either way, I had bigger fish to fry.

  My sharp stiletto heels clicked an angry tune on the pavement as I made my way back to Lola and slid inside. My right hand idly stroked Ziff’s velvety ears as I sat there for a moment, doing my best to rein in my temper; he was the only thing that could really calm me down when I was in a mood. As it was, I gunned Lola's engine and didn't even apologize as her tires squealed and I tore out into the street.

  Fucking Fae-Bitch was in so much trouble … but first, I needed to stop my ex from harassing my friends. What was next, were they going to turn up at Mik's house, too? He’d slaughter their arrogant asses and paint the pavement red.

  If Mik even had a house, that is. Maybe a castle or a crypt or something? Did he have a coffin? Or a proper bed?

  Ugh, focus Thea! First, drag Riot's sorry ass out of my best friend’s house, then kick Fae-Bitch's ass, then daydream about where Mikhail—uber powerful, deadly vampire—sleeps.

  Baby steps.

  Using my own key, I let myself into Chris's shitty apartment and cringed at the smell. It was like stale sweat, old alcohol, and cupcakes. That was the dust. Fucked up as it was, dust literally smelled like cupcakes or sugar cookies. That's pixies for you though: even under the horrific conditions they're kept in, the little fuckers still exuded happiness from their pores.

  "Chris?" I called out, keys jangling in my hand. I wasn't about to call this man any affectionate little nicknames after the shit he'd just pulled.

  Ziff chirped and stood up on his hind legs, ears perked. I knew as soon as he let out a little purr that it wasn't Riot I was going to have to deal with … but Fin.

  Cursing under my breath, I stormed down the hall and found Chris lying in his bed while Fin sat nearby and chewed on the end of a celery stalk. It was a nervous habit of his, to chew things. Started when he was a pup and never quit. Just one of the things about him that drove me nuts.

  He flicked his tail at me and scowled when I stepped into the room.

  "I'm not in for some mail-order bride," he growled, and I felt my hackles go up as he bared his teeth at me. If anyone else had done that to me, Ziff would've hissed in response. Instead, he just purred, and I felt my own fangs sharpening in response.

  "What are you even doing here?" I asked, shoving past him. I think at some point we'd both mutually decided not to acknowledge how good it felt when we touched. Ziff, however, had no such problems and used my very brief connection with Fin's elbow to bounce up and onto his shoulder.

  Kneeling down next to Chris, I put my hand against his forehead. He was clammy as hell, his skin an almost sickly yellow-gray color. But he was smiling when he tilted his head to look at me. Since I had no clue how much dust he'd taken, I also didn’t know if it was a genuine smile or if it was just a bunch of magic meth thrilling through this veins.

  "I didn't come here to see you; Chris called me," Fin continued from behind me. His nearness said the complete opposite of his words. I could feel him, his body heat warming my back as I swiped some hair from my best friend's forehead.

  "You keep in touch with Fin?" I asked, looking down at my friend's wide eyes. He was batting his long lashes innocently enough, but the beautiful turquoise color of his wings was faded and dulled, the sensitive appendages curled at the edges.

  Yep. He was already starting to go through a dust withdrawal. This motherfucker …

  "Fin was always my favorite," Chris whined as he rolled toward me and tried to grab my hands. I jerked back from him and let my mouth twist into a snarl. "And I figured win-win, right? You show up and see Fin, or at least … I'd have someone here to get me through this."

  "Do not play that shit on me," I growled back at him, standing up and turning to give Ziff a similar glare. He didn't seem to notice, happily grooming his tail while Fin's three, orange ones danced in frustration behind him.

  My own tails mimicked the motion and my ears lay flat against my dark hair in anger.

  Fin's eyes, the brilliant orange of autumn leaves, watched me with a vibrant mix of hate and lust. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down. I was not going to sit here while Chris screamed and hallucinated, tried to claw his own eyes out and …

  Fuck.

  I spun around and grabbed the handle on Chris' nightstand drawer, yanking it open and revealing a very healthy array of sex toys. Most of them I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole, but the fuzzy handcuffs were safe enough. I clamped one around Chris' left wrist and hooked him to the decorative wooden pole on his nightstand before he even realized what I was doing.

  "You know I love you, girl, but our relationship doesn't really extend to S&M. Sorry, but pussies are just plain gross."

  "Shut your mouth," I told him as I leaned onto the bed and trapped his left wrist, too. I debated going for his feet, but a faerie—and I mean that in the species sense, not just the fact that Chris was gayer than rainbow anal beads—coming down from a dust withdrawal was not going to be coordinated enough to do any damage with his feet. "And stay here while I get rid of Finley."

  "Thea," my ex started as I rose to my feet and pointed down at Chris, completely and utterly ignoring the man who used to be the love of my life. People change, circumstances change. And I wasn't going to be tethered down by anyone, not even a man that used to make my blood boil in the best possible way. That still did make my blood boil in the best possible way.

  Ugh.

  Hormones sucked; feelings sucked worse.

  My nipples pebbled and I sent up a silent curse to the universe. Kitsune pheromones were powerful as hell, and Fin was exuding so damn many he could probably bottle and sell that shit.

  "If you scream too much, I'll come in here and use that ball gag on you," I informed my bestie, adjusting my finger so that I was pointing at a pink sparkly ball gag with a unicorn on it. Oh, Chris. "And then I'll put girl-on-girl porn on. Not a single dick in sight."

  "Oh, for the love of the fucking Veil," he moaned, already thrashing against his bonds. I watched Chris for a moment, gave Ziff his you-best-not-ignore-this whistle, and felt his tiny warm form bounce onto my shoulder. He bit my ear and trilled his displeasure, but he stayed put. At least when push came to shove, he'd choose me over my ex.

  I turned and left Chris in the bedroom, but when Fin moved to shut the door, I spun back and gave him an are-you-stupid look.

  "You can't leave a dust addict on a comedown alone in a room like that," I scoffed as Fin crossed his own arms over his lean, muscular chest. Holy foxfire, Thea, get it together. What I needed was a one-night stand, something to smash my hormones down and put them in a little box. I so did not need this shit right now. And I sure as fuck didn't need the poison of lust chasing through my veins when I went for a hit—an unsanctioned hit that Mikhail was going to kill me for.

  Mikhail.

  Goddamn it.

  Between him, and Riot, and Fin, I was pretty much done with men. Well, I mean men that I knew. A stranger sounded really good right about now—especially when I considered how pissed all three of the above men would feel if they knew about my plans.

  "I can't close his door so we can have privacy? You weren't even going to come over until you knew I was here." Fin tilted his head to one side, orange ears twitching at me in curiosity, like he was sizing me up in my stiletto boots and long, black trench. When I'd lived at home, I'd always trounced around in short denim cut-offs and crop top t-shirts, barefoot and proud.

  I'd
come a long way since then.

  "Why are you here anyway?" I asked, backing down the hallway. Fin dropped his arms to his sides and followed after me. There was something about the way he moved that made my heartbeat pick up, my throat get dry and tight.

  "Riot told me you were trying to ship some bride over from Japan. Sorry, Thea, but that's not going to work for me."

  My mouth twisted into an expression I wasn't particularly proud of. It felt mean, and spiteful. I wasn't either of those things, but I also didn't like being bullied. Riot and Fin had always been overprotective, almost cloyingly so.

  "Work for you? What would work for you then? Me to come crawling back?" I laughed, this caustic, ugly sound, as I turned away and glanced down at Chris' glass coffee table. There was a used condom on the surface; I almost gagged. I loved my bestie, but the last thing I needed to see were his sex accoutrements. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Fin's orange eyes flashing with fire. He looked like he might come at me. I fucking dare him to try. "Have you ever taken a moment to wonder why I left in the first place? You and Riot, you drove me away."

  "Don't say that!" Fin barked—pretty literally barked, too. I turned all the way around as he came forward, standing so close that our toes touched. He was barefoot, unsurprisingly, and only a few inches taller than me while I was wearing my heels. Most kitsune had some Japanese heritage mixed in, but Fin looked … Irish? I wasn't quite sure what human species he had in his DNA background, but he was only a good six inches taller than me when we were both barefoot. Most men towered over me which I fucking hated. Towered. That word, it was like a misogynistic romance novel term that made women swoon when really, it should make them sick.

  Who the hell wants someone to menacingly tower over them?!

  "You and Riot drove me away," I repeated as Ziff shrieked his frustration—he hated to see us fight—and darted back and forth across my shoulders, nibbling at my ears. "And you were the one that asked for a female. Whether or not you take her as a mate isn't my problem. The council will complete my binding, I'll have my magic back …" I stepped in even closer to Fin's lean body, his muscles tight and compact, made from nature and not a gym. Putting my left foot between his legs, I leaned up and put my mouth to his ear. "And I'll be this much closer to leaving you in the dust forever."