by Linsey Hall
I tapped my fingers on the bar, keeping my gaze alert on the pub. Though I could feel my sexy stalker’s magic, I couldn’t see him.
“Aerdeca?” Simon’s voice sounded from behind me, and I turned. He was a short guy with pale hair and big ears. Fortunately, he heard a lot through those ears, and I hoped he’d have something good for me.
“Simon. How are you?” I set my drink on the bar.
“Fine. What are you looking for?”
I also liked how he got right to the point. No wasted time with Simon. “A necromancy demon has supposedly come through here. I’m looking for him.”
Simon nodded as if he’d been expecting this. He knew I hunted demons, but he thought I did it for my shop. Their blood was so useful, after all. And it was true—I did hunt them for my shop.
I just also did it as a slayer.
It was the perfect cover.
“One of them came through here a few hours ago. Asking about some Merilorca root.”
“Merilorca root?” I hadn’t heard of that before, and I’d heard of almost all the magical ingredients.
Simon shrugged. “Something rare, I guess. I heard someone direct him to Snakerton.”
Of course. Snakerton dealt in the most dangerous and deadly ingredients.
I freaking hated Snakerton.
Not because of the ingredients—I dealt in some deadly shit myself. No, I hated Snakerton because he sucked.
The door to the pub opened, bringing with it a cold whiff of air. I looked over, my heart thundering when I spotted the hot, dangerous guy.
Yep. That damned Aethelred was never wrong.
I shifted so I was hidden behind Simon. “You ever seen that guy before?”
“Declan O’Shea?” Simon nodded. “Bounty hunter. Best of them all.”
I nearly cursed. Freaking bounty hunter. Just as I’d suspected.
“Best of,” I muttered. Just a bunch of bag-em-and-tag-em losers.
“Oh yeah, best.” Simon nodded, eyes glinting with excitement. “He takes only the most dangerous and deadly jobs. Rich as Midas because of it. People say he likes the danger.”
Of course he did. “What type of supernatural is he?”
“A fallen angel.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I’d been joking when I’d called him a fallen angel. They were rare as hell and mega-powerful. I’d never even met one before.
Of course he was, though. That was just my luck.
It was time for me to get the hell out of there. There was no doubt Declan was hunting my prey, and I wasn’t going to let him beat me.
“Thanks, Simon.” I caught the bartender’s eye and nodded, then slipped off the bar stool and out the back. I moved quickly and quietly, hoping that Declan wouldn’t notice me.
How the heck was he always on my tail?
I didn’t like anyone getting too close.
The night was cold as I entered the alley. It smelled of dark magic and pee, a really awful combo. I breathed lightly through my mouth, wishing I could slip into my ghost suit.
Not yet, though.
Snakerton knew me as Aerdeca, and he was definitely scared of me. That was the only form I would show him.
I moved quickly out of the alley, hurrying toward the main road. It was busier now, as the night owls of Darklane came out for the evening. A few old cars were out, and I cut in front of one as I headed for the other side of the street.
Snakerton lived down Blackburn Alley, which was by far the creepiest part of Darklane. The road was only about six feet across, and no cars were allowed. I entered the alley, ignoring the shops on either side that sold all kinds of iffy shit. Shrunken heads and spells made from really dark magic. The kind that were crafted from stolen magic and misery.
Like the rest of Darklane, the buildings were three stories high. The second and third hung out farther than the ones below, creating a tunnel-like effect.
A few people stepped out of their buildings to greet me, but I ignored them. Some of them thought I was as evil as they were. I wasn’t. Sure, I had my faults. But most of what I did was in service of guarding this town from demons. It meant getting chummy with these folks sometimes, but if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t.
Finally, I reached The Snake Pit, Snakerton’s little den of horrors. I opened the door that jingled with an annoying little bell and stepped into the clutter. A purple haze filled the shop, and it reeked of herbs.
I hadn’t been there in years, and I didn’t regret it.
Shelves lined the walls, each stuffed full of various potions, ingredients, and magical devices. A few waist-high glass cases filled the middle of the shop, proudly displaying wares that made me cringe a bit. Small mummified demons and the like. Not my style.
“Oh, Snakerton!” I called out.
“You!” An irate voice cut through the shop right before something hurtled through the air, headed straight at my face.
4
Instinct made me dive left, right behind the small case in the center of the room.
Shit. He was probably still annoyed that I’d stolen his stash of Garotid demon blood a few years ago.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” I peeped out from behind the case, spotting Snakerton standing next to the main counter where he rang up purchases.
His dark eyes blazed with rage, and his villain mustache trembled.
Oh yeah, the little guy was pissed.
Snakerton was small and thin, his dark hair done up in complicated waves that really suited his curlicue mustache. He wore a wild red jacket that looked like it was decorated with giant lizards. Silk pants completed the look. Unfortunately for him, the whole effect made him look like a snake-oil salesman or cartoon villain, and I nearly giggled.
Hell, I couldn’t help myself when faced with him.
“I’m sure we can work this out, Snakerton,” I said.
“Hag!”
“Hey!” I frowned. “Come on, we can be friends.”
Okay, that was an outright lie.
He could tell, too, because he hurled another potion bomb right at my head. I ducked back behind the edge of the counter, which exploded into tiny shards of wood.
Yeah, this was going about as well as I’d expected.
I turned around to inspect the shelving that shielded me from Snakerton. There were about a dozen colorful potion bombs in glass vials, each displayed on a little stand. Because potion making was such an individual art, there was no way to determine what these were. I might put my stunner potions into blue glass jars, while he preferred yellow.
I grabbed a red one, figuring it looked threatening, and popped up, hurling it at him.
The glass flew through the air, glinting brightly. Snakerton’s eyes widened, and he dived left, barely avoiding the bomb. It smashed into the shelves behind him, hissing and spitting as it ate away at the wood.
Ohhhh, acid bomb. Nice.
Except now I’d destroyed a bunch of his stock, and he was sure to be even more pissed.
I grabbed a blue bomb instead, creeping around the edge of the counter. I lobbed it toward him. He dived again—fast little bugger—and when the glass exploded against the ground, a hive of angry pixies burst up from it.
They swarmed him, biting and clawing. He shrieked, sounding like an enraged rodent, and I stifled a laugh.
Then the pixies came for me. Four of the little bastards—each a bright pink and blue—dived for my face. I flung my arms up, smacking them away.
“Begone, you devils!” Snakerton shouted.
I peeked out from behind my arms. The pixies poofed into dust. Only the creator of the pixie bomb could command them to leave, but it was a nice safety net.
“There’s no need to fight,” I said. “I just have a question.”
“And I have a burning desire to kill you.”
“Are you sure that’s not a problem with your diet?” I asked. “You shouldn’t be eating such spicy foods. Unless it burns when you pee? Because that’s a
problem I can’t help you with.”
He hissed and hurled another potion bomb. I scrambled out of the way, but was too slow. It smashed into my arm. Pain flared, an agony that felt like my muscle was tearing away from my bones.
I looked down, horrified to see that my arm had turned silvery and weird. Flat, almost. And it was covered in scales. I raised my hand. But there was no more hand. Just a fish’s head.
“You bastard!” He’d turned my arm into a fish!
And it stank.
I darted out from behind the counter, charging him.
He wasn’t expecting the direct attack, and I was able to leap on him and throw him to the ground. I straddled him and began beating him with my fish arm, smacking the thing against his face. He sputtered and shrieked.
“Turn it back!” I shouted, nailing him hard in the ear.
“Fine, fine!”
Snakerton was only tough when he was throwing potion bombs. If you got ahold of him, he was a weenie.
“Now!” I smacked him with my fish arm again.
Holy fates, if anyone saw me like this, my rep would be ruined. All those years of instilling fear and awe and respect—boom, gone.
Fish girl.
The idea chilled me to my bones.
Snakerton could be a clever bastard when he wanted to.
He began to mutter under his breath, a spell that I recognized as a common counter curse. Only he could use it effectively since he’d made the spell. Thank fates that the bomb had only hit my arm. Had it hit my chest or head, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle. Hell, I’d be the fish in shit creek.
My arm tingled, finally turning back to normal. I wiggled my fingers as I kept a grip on Snakerton’s collar with my other hand.
He scowled up at me, his mustache quivering with rage.
Yeah, this dude wasn’t going to be helpful. Not in this state, at least. I looked at the shelf above him, inspecting the contents. A vial of pearly white liquid caught my eye, and I grinned.
Truth serum.
I grabbed it.
“Hey!” He tried to hit me, but I smacked his hand away. “You have to pay for that.”
“I will.” And I really would. Snakerton was a fellow professional, as much as I might dislike him. “But first, you have to take this.”
“So you have the ethics to pay for it, but you’ll force me to drink it?” He sputtered, turning red.
I nodded. “Yeah, they’re a bit wonky. But they’re my ethics, and I love ‘em.”
His mouth dropped open, and I took the opportunity to flick the top off the vial of truth serum and dump it down his throat.
I slammed his jaw shut and pinched his nose. “That’s a good Snaky. Now take your meds. They might improve your disposition.”
He sputtered harder, shaking his head.
“You’re right. You’ll always be a miserable bastard. Now tell me where the necromancer demon went.”
“No.”
I shook him, waiting for the potion to take effect. From the pearly look of it, I was pretty sure what qualities it possessed. Soon, he’d be compelled to tell me what I wanted to know. The words would just burst out of him.
And they did.
“He’s gone to the docks,” Snakerton spat.
“What docks?”
“The docks at the edge of town. Duh.”
“What’s he want there?”
“He’s catching a ferry to Supernalito.”
“Why?”
“You can’t transport in, that’s why. It’s magically protected.”
“I know that. Why is he going to Supernalito?” It was a settlement of houseboats built in an oceanfront valley in California. But what did he want there?
“Don’t know.”
That was the truth, unfortunately. Dang. “Why did he come here? What did he want from you?”
He pursed his lips, his face turning red.
I gave him a little shake. “Come on, spit it out.”
The truth serum forced him to speak. “I gave him Merilorca root.”
Just as Simon had reported. “Anything else?”
“A bit of Velochia blood.”
Hmm, that was weird. “What do those two do together?”
Odds were good my necromancer demon wanted to raise the dead. But which dead and how many dead had a lot to do with the ingredients he had for his operation.
“I don’t know.”
Damn it, that was true, too.
“Fine. Thanks for your time, Snakerton.” I stood and reached into my pocket, pulling out a few bills to cover the cost of the truth serum.
Snakerton staggered to his feet, sputtering as he adjusted his horrendous red coat. He waved his arms wildly, gesturing to the room. “That’s not enough for all this chaos!”
“This?” I turned around to inspect the smashed potions and damaged shelving. Yeah, I was glad this wasn’t my shop. “Collateral damage. After all, you started it.”
I pricked my fingertip with my sharp thumbnail, making blood well. Silently, I murmured the words, “Forget of me, I will of thee.”
I felt magic swirl around my finger, a combination of my blood and the chant. I raised my fingertip, lunging for Snakerton, and swiped a white streak of blood over his forehead. Then I whispered my curse one more time, to seal it. “Forget of me, I will of thee.”
His eyes blurred and his jaw slackened. The swipe of blood on his head disappeared.
Yep, that had worked. He wouldn’t remember the last ten minutes, not since the moment he’d first seen me. He’d be confused about the money on his counter and the destruction to his shop, but he wouldn’t remember me.
And that was key.
Because this was the blood magic that I wasn’t supposed to use. The gift from the dragon that I’d never met. Normal blood sorcery used other ingredients and created spells and charms that people were familiar with. What I’d done here was create new magic for myself using just my blood and my words.
I walked a fine line when I did that. As long as I kept it small and temporary—a one-time-use forgetfulness spell instead of giving myself the permanent power of memory alteration—no one would notice, and it wouldn’t change my magical signature. It was safe.
Safe-ish.
The thing that Mari and I never did was give ourselves new, permanent powers. If I wanted to, I could give myself the power to make gold or kill millions with a single lightning strike. Theoretically, nothing was impossible for us. But it took a hell of a lot more energy and blood. And as a result of our new gifts, our magical signatures would grow.
More magic equaled a stronger signature, like working up a sweat in the gym equaled a stronger stink.
I didn’t want to stink.
Especially since it would allow my family to find me. They wanted nothing more than to use me and Mari to create horrible magic. We’d almost died trying to escape them, and we’d never go back.
Never.
I turned to leave, keeping my gaze on the mirror in front of me. It allowed me to watch him as I walked away. He continued to stare into space. The trance would break when I was finally out of his sight.
I slipped out onto the street and headed toward the docks.
The docks were in a quiet part of town, especially at this hour. Darklane might be bustling, but fishermen didn’t want to be out on the sea at night. Not normally, at least. That was when the monsters came out.
The cool breeze carried the scent of the ocean, and I sucked in a deep breath. I loved the sea, though there was no reason for it. Grimrealm was underground—no water for miles. So I certainly hadn’t grown up with it.
Though maybe that was the point. I liked the fact that it wasn’t anything like Grimrealm.
No one was looking, so I slipped into the shadows and removed my glamour. My white fight suit was made of a tough material that stood up to scrapes and small blades. The hood that made me invisible would appear when I called on it, though I wouldn’t need it now. Anyway, it was normal for
me to be out hunting demons in this outfit. When people saw me doing it, they assumed I was hunting for my shop. It was the invisibility and demon slaying for the Council that were the secrets.
I moved back onto the docks and searched for a boat with any activity on deck. There was one on the far end, a ferry about a hundred feet long with two stories built over the deck.
Bingo.
But would my demon prey be on there?
Somehow, I doubted it.
No way he’d arrive super early at a ferry and then just sit there, waiting patiently for me.
I approached, spotting the captain quickly. She was young, a red-haired woman who couldn’t be more than twenty-two. But she wore one of those goofy captain’s hats and a big badge that said Captain, so I had to assume it was her.
She stood near the side of the boat, and I stopped in front of her.
“Hi. You the captain?”
She grinned. “How’d you know?”
“Your air of authority.” Definitely not the big hat and badge.
“Excellent. You want a ride out to Supernalito? We leave in ten minutes.”
“You read my mind. Any demons on board?”
She gasped. “I would never.”
“Hmm. Sure, sure.” Demons shouldn’t be on earth, so transporting them was illegal. “I’m not with the Order of the Magica, so I don’t care. Just curious.”
The Order of the Magica was one of the two main supernatural governments on earth. They oversaw all magic individuals who used magic. Blood Sorceresses like myself, along with mages, witches, Fae, etc. The Alpha Council oversaw the shifters—those who actually were magic.
But it was the Order of the Magica who had a real stick up their butts about rule following. I didn’t like them any more than the captain here did. Especially since they’d frown on my true species. And that frowning often led to throwing in jail. Hiding my true nature protected me from them as well as from my family.
“I wouldn’t care if you were with the Order.” She shook her hair back over her head as if to prove she didn’t give a shit.
“Well, I’m not. I’m just trying to catch a really mean demon.”
“Bounty hunter?”
“Yeah.” The words almost stuck in my throat, given how much I hated bounty hunters. But it was easier to say that than demon slayer, since those were rare, and I didn’t want anyone knowing about that part of my life. Because the Council of Demon Slayers had helped us escape Grimrealm—and my family might very well know that—it would be a clue that led back to my true past. No thanks.