by Dannika Dark
I sensed his energy as he approached. I didn’t know what Breed he was, but we had stronger energy than humans did.
Instead of going to the bathroom, he stopped at my table. “You’re the Shadow, and I’m interested in hiring you.”
I choked on my coffee as he sat across from me. “The what?” While I wiped my mouth with a napkin, I studied him closely. English wasn’t this man’s first language. “Do I know you?”
Amusement danced in his steel-grey eyes. The lines in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes showed he was an expressive man, and not quite as old as I first thought.
He laced his fingers together. “Let’s not play around,” he said, a thick Russian accent rolling off his tongue. While he spoke gruffly, there was a cadence to his voice that was like warm brandy. “You’re the one they whisper about—the one who kills notorious men. Rumors of your existence have a lot of men pissing in their pants.”
I warmed my hands on my coffee cup, trying to figure him out. Energy from Breed varied on many levels, and I couldn’t ascertain what he was from that. “Why did you call me the Shadow?”
“You do not know?” His brows arched, deepening the grooves in his forehead. “I am looking at an urban legend who has taken down some of the most elusive outlaws that not even the authorities could catch. People call you the Shadow because no one has seen your face, just hair spun from midnight. Some call you the angel of death, others call you the Ferryman.”
“Shadow is better,” I said, swirling a fry in a pile of ketchup. “Ferryman sounds like we should be on a gondola in Italy.”
His pale eyes ruled out a Vampire or Chitah. He still hadn’t flared, so unless he was concealing his energy, I didn’t think he was a Mage either.
“What are you?” I asked, sliding my plate aside and resting my forearms on the table.
“Shifter,” he said, scrutinizing me with his eyes.
Shifters lived hundreds of years, maybe longer, and aged slowly. By the looks of him, he was probably a few hundred years old.
He pinched his chin. “You are rough around the edges, but I think with the right help you could be one of the best.”
“The best what?”
“We do all kinds of jobs, and I only select people who stand out from all the rest. You have an impressive track record of kills. What motivates you?”
“Good fries.”
Who was this guy? Coming in like the Soviet KGB, and I hadn’t even had my pie yet.
“Let me make this clear: it is not important why you hunt these men, only that you do it well. I want to make you an offer, and you should carefully consider my proposal because this opportunity will only come once. You can refuse, but if you change your mind, the offer will be off the table.”
Betty appeared to my right, warming my coffee with a refill. “Can I get you something?” she asked the gentleman.
“Nyet, thank you,” he replied warmly with a brisk nod of his head.
She turned to me, concern brimming in her eyes. “Honey, do you want a second helping?”
“No, ma’am. But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you have any pie?”
Betty chuckled and patted my hand. “I have the apple pie all warmed up for you. I know it’s your favorite. Let me finish up something and I’ll bring it right over.”
“Ice cream?”
“You betcha.”
I smiled in gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver. Anyone ever tell you that?”
She walked off, just a small pear-shape of a woman, but she was a godsend.
“You are generous to the humans,” my companion noted absently. “My name is Viktor Kazan. Do you come with a name, or should I just keep calling you the Shadow?”
I bit into my last chicken finger and decided introductions weren’t going to kill me. “Raven.”
“And what are you, my dear?”
“Hungry, so if you’d wrap up this little ray of hope you’re bleeding all over my table, I’d like to get back to waiting for my pie.”
He sat back, shoulders straight. “I want you to listen to what I tell you. What we do is not different from what you do, only it’s cleaner. But we do so much more than that. It is dangerous work, but you’ll be one of us, and that means protection. You’ll have food, shelter, and a paycheck.”
“Maybe sweeping the streets isn’t a job to me; maybe it’s a mission I do for the love of it.”
Viktor leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “Forgive me. I did not know I was dining with Mother Teresa. The next time you’re searching for a hot meal and don’t have a place to stay, remember that you’re wasting your talents.”
I sipped my coffee and then set down the white cup. “So you created your own little organization of bounty hunters. What makes you so different from them or that HALO group of do-gooders?”
“Because we do what bounty hunters can’t and what HALO won’t.”
A chill ran up my spine. HALO was a group of men who investigated crimes and brought down criminals, but they did everything by the book. The same applied for most bounty hunters, except that they did more extensive traveling. If what he said was true, that meant the higher authority was possibly paying them to do things in secret—breaking laws without repercussions. Breed didn’t have an official form of government, but the higher authority was as close as it got. Elected members from each Breed sat on the panel, and one was located in every major city throughout the United States. From what I knew, they were the ones who imposed sentencing, whether it be serving time in Breed jail or the death sentence.
“How did you find me?”
“You can only catch a shadow when you stand very still. I have a tracker who is good at what he does.”
I blanched at the idea this guy had been following me. Had I left behind clues? Bread crumbs? Evidence?
He slid a white card in my direction. “Keep it.”
Betty set a white dish in front of me with a slice of apple pie and vanilla ice cream. She took my empty plate and went about her business, wiping down tables and refilling the napkin holders.
I flipped the card over.
“All it says is ZERO. Is that your phone number or how many times you’ve been laid?”
“Go to the bakery on the corner of Avenue B and 14th Street tomorrow. Do you know the place of which I speak? It has red lettering on the windows.”
“I know it.”
He pointed at the card. “Give that to the baker and ask for the daily special.”
“Will he give me a loaf of bread with a microchip inside? That’s almost as fun as finding baby Jesus in a king cake.”
“Maybe this was a mistake,” he muttered.
My whole life had been a mistake, so I didn’t see the harm in making another. “Let’s just say that I’m considering your offer. What if I join and then decide it’s not the life for me?”
“Joining is not that easy, but should you decide to leave, you’re free to go.”
“Go where? Over a pier with cement blocks strapped to my feet?” I cut into my pie and ate a large apple slice. “I’m a lot of things, Mr. Kazan, but I’m not a fool. Do you really expect me to believe that you’d let me go, knowing who you are and privy to inside information? Something tells me that I’d wind up tied to the engine of a jumbo jet.”
He smirked as if I’d told a joke.
But I was serious.
Dead serious.
“We’ve never had anyone leave, but should you choose to do so, it will be at your own risk. A Vampire will scrub your memory, and depending on how much you know and how long you’ve been with us, it could be messy. There is a chance you could wind up with a clean slate and new identity. Long-term memories are harder for Vampires to wipe, as you know.”
I really didn’t know much about Vampires. No one had taught me, and most people didn’t sit around in bars talking about all their abilities. Most of what I knew I’d overheard or discovered on my own.
“I’ll think about it,” I said
honestly, scooping up my ice cream before it melted.
He tapped his hand on the table. “I can offer you something you’ve never known: purpose. Do you think living on the edge makes you a rebel—a revolutionary who’s fighting for the greater good? If you don’t have ambition, you’ll become just as bitter as the rogues who wander aimlessly, enveloped in their own hatred and jealousy. If you see yourself as a saint, remember this conversation ten years from now when you’ve grown resentful that you have nothing while others live comfortably. The line between good and evil is invisible, and if you cannot sense where it is, it won’t take long to cross it. Aspire to be something greater than just a shadow of yourself.”
He stood up and glanced at my attire, muttering something in Russian. “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”
I took another forkful of pie and watched him counting money from his wallet. I didn’t have plans to sleep, but I silently accepted the large sum of money he placed on the table.
After my pie, I enjoyed a third cup of coffee before gathering my things and heading out.
When I crossed the street, I had a perfect view of Betty picking up the biggest tip she’d ever received from my table.
It was a breezy night, and I spent most of it strolling through the city streets. But just after dawn, dark clouds rolled in, and punishing drops of rain drenched people on their way to work. The man selling umbrellas outside the apartment buildings picked a good day to make money. After a few hours of people-watching from my chair in the Laundromat, I headed north on 14th Street with the strap from my duffel bag weighing down my shoulder.
The heavy fragrance of fresh breads and pastries wafted through the open door as I entered the bakery. Water dripped from the plastic bag I’d put over my head as a makeshift hat, and I tossed it into a trash can.
A man who looked my age was sipping his coffee at a table ahead to my right, the chocolate éclair on his napkin half-eaten.
I studied the card Viktor had given me. What did I have to lose? It wasn’t as if I had my life together, and maybe this was a chance to learn something. Our world was thick with criminals, and I didn’t have a shred of guilt for the men I’d killed. Maybe getting paid for it wouldn’t be so bad.
The woman behind the register greeted me with a warm smile. “Morning! Take your time and let me know when you’re ready.”
I eased up to the glass counter and admired all the sweet pastries lined up in neat little rows. The entire wall behind them was nothing but baskets of breads separated by grain and type.
Three workers were dashing back and forth behind the counter, filling orders and emptying breadbaskets. I tapped my fingernail against the glass, uncertain who was the baker. They were all dressed the same, so I looked around the room for an “employee of the month” plaque that might narrow it down.
“Young lady, is there something that I can help you with?” a dark-skinned man asked.
He had gentle eyes, and I took a chance that he was the owner and slipped him Viktor’s card. “Um, the daily special please.”
Without a word, he reached under the counter and then handed me a pink box. “Just as you ordered. Thank you for paying us in advance; we’re more than happy to have it ready for you,” he said with a wink. Seconds later, he disappeared into the back room.
A little mystified, I turned away with the small box and stood by the door.
“Excuse me,” someone said.
I glanced up and stepped aside as the attractive man, who moments ago had been eating a chocolate éclair, was on his way out. I noticed his blond hair had dark roots, and he styled it in the disheveled manner that was the popular trend. When he smiled, it created grooves on both sides of his face.
“Don’t get wet out there,” I said with a chuckle.
“Says the girl without an umbrella.” He turned around to open the door with his back. “Maybe I should wear a plastic bag over my head,” he said playfully.
“Maybe.”
His gaze lingered on my mismatched eyes and made me uncomfortable. People couldn’t help themselves. I stared at his black ear studs in a half-assed attempt to find something wrong with him, but all he did was smile wider and then disappear into the rain.
Humans were becoming so peculiar to me, and it had only been five years since I’d been turned.
Now that I had privacy, I lifted the lid of my box, uncertain of what to expect. A key? A flash drive? A secret device? A pistol?
Beneath the wax paper was a lemon bar lightly dusted with powdered sugar.
I broke it into three pieces, searching inside for a folded-up piece of paper or… I don’t know. What was I looking for? There wasn’t anything underneath the bottom sheet of paper either. What the hell was I doing? Mr. Kazan must have been the kind of guy who sought amusement from messing with people’s heads.
I threw the box into the trash and stormed out into the rain. As I crossed the street, my right boot landed in a deep puddle of water just before I stepped onto the curb.
“Swell,” I muttered, my sock turning into a sponge.
A black Honda screeched to a halt, and the engine revved twice, as if screaming for my attention. When I approached the car, the window rolled down.
“Get in. I’ll take you to Viktor.”
I bent down and peered in at the profile of a man in a long black trench coat. The window rolled up, so I lifted the handle and opened the door.
He leaned over and looked up at me. “Your place or mine?”
“Well, my place is outside, so you decide.”
I hugged my duffel and sank into the seat, squeaking against the leather as I reached to shut the door.
I felt him staring at me, so I peered over at him.
He pushed his dark shades farther up his nose. “If I’d known that I’d be picking up the ocean, I would have brought a sponge.”
I suddenly recognized the lilt in his voice. The way he spoke had the lyrical swing that was typical of the Irish, but his voice was dark, gritty, and full of attitude.
He dropped his foot on the gas pedal, and my head flung back. I wrapped the seat belt around me and gave him an intolerant glare.
“I know you,” I said, my mind working overtime trying to place him. It took me a minute because I ran into so many people on a daily basis. “Yes, I remember you now. You’re the asshole with the onion rings.”
He raised his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Aye. And you’re the leech with the lacy knickers.” His eyes flicked down to my lap. “Where’s my lemon bar?”
I chortled. “So that’s what the pink box was about. Sorry, but I don’t like lemon bars. I threw it away.”
He squeezed the steering wheel. “Jaysus wept. I think Viktor has finally lost his marbles.”
I was having second thoughts when I realized that this guy worked for Viktor. Maybe he was just the chauffeur.
The scenery flew by—people rushing through the rain with newspapers covering their heads, a paper cup floating down the sewage drain, windows fogged over in most of the eateries. Cognito was quite a magnificent northeastern city, even at its ugliest.
The Vampire put on his turn signal and made a right. “There’s a burger place just up the street. Viktor won’t mind.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He turned his head all the way to face me. “It’s eleven in the morning, scavenger, and your stomach is louder than my engine.”
I chuckled. “A Vampire with a Honda. You made my day.”
He snapped his attention back to the road, his voice clipped. “It’s unassuming.”
“Buy all the burgers you want, but I won’t eat them.” No way was I giving him the satisfaction.
“You must be a Shifter—stubborn and brassy.”
With lightning speed, I whipped out a push dagger attached to my belt and held it against his whiskery jaw. “And you need a shave. Be sure to watch out for those speed bumps,” I added, scraping the knife at an upward angle. “No more insults, or I’ll cut yo
u up into little pieces and ship you back to Ireland.”
He slammed the brakes, and I flew forward, jerked to a stop by my seat belt. The Vampire disarmed me and clamped the back of my neck with an iron grip. “Let’s keep the sharp weapons tucked away, shall we? Besides, a woman like you doesn’t need a dagger. You have a tongue that could clip a hedge.”
He reached for the blade that had fallen on the floorboard and released his hold. “And don’t litter in my car. I never did like a litterbug.”
I sat up and rubbed the back of my neck, my ego slightly deflated. The knife wouldn’t have done him serious harm since stunners were designed to paralyze a Mage, not a Vampire, but sometimes a girl had to make a point.
We left the city and entered a wealthy area of town that I’d never seen before. The car slowed in front of a wrought iron gate that reached maybe fifteen or twenty feet high. Above it was a stone archway between two walls that stretched as far as I could see. On the keystone at the center of the arch was a carving of a Roman soldier’s head staring down at me, his helmet on. The slope of his brows and pensive gaze made me shiver.
The Vampire veered to the left and swiped his card against a stand. While he waited for the gates to open, he switched off the windshield wipers when the downpour changed to a light sprinkle.
“I don’t have to live here, do I?”
“Would that be too awful? Jaysus, will you fecking look at it?” He lifted his arm theatrically. “This isn’t a mansion, it’s a country. If you’d rather live on the street than in here, you’re a bigger fruit loop than I took you for.”
“I’m not living on the street.”
The car lurched to a stop. “I’ll spare you the indignity of giving me an explanation since we both know that’s a lie. Now why don’t you cheer up, lass? You were so much more pleasant when you just wanted me for my onion rings.”
“What’s a Vampire doing eating in public anyhow?”
He scratched behind his ear. “I was trying to blend in.”
I snorted. “Yeah. A Vampire eating food doesn’t stand out.”
We continued down the road that led to the mansion, which looked more like a castle. Once the car stopped in the circular driveway in front, I got out and soaked in my surroundings. Another road branched off to the right toward what looked like a garage door and a small building.