The Wanted

by Rory Miles

  “She loved you, you know that? She would want you to take some time for yourself. Maybe get a little rest?”

  He chuckled. “That obvious?”

  “Meyers, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.” I smiled to soften the blow.

  “All right, I’ll work on taking a day off,” he said, staring off into the distance.

  I rapped my knuckles on the desk. “Enough of the sappy stuff. I have news.”

  I didn’t think it possible for him, but when I told him I was moving on his eyes welled with tears.

  “I can pay you more.”

  My hair swayed when I shook my head. “You pay me plenty. This is . . . personal. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice.”

  I met his gaze, trying hard not to show any emotion. He let out a breath and looked down at his clasped hands.

  “What are you running from?”

  I raised an eyebrow. Meyers was perceptive.

  “Nothing,” I said, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m just ready for a new town.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a horrible liar. You still have one more job before you can leave. Lucky for you, it’s an easy one.”

  He shuffled through the papers on his desk. I watched a few flutter to the floor, smirking at the disaster of an office. Sadness tugged at me. I ignored the feeling, shoving it to the back of my mind.

  “Here we go.” He handed me a profile.

  My eyes scanned the document and I huffed out an irritated breath. Easy? Yeah, right.

  “Shit, Meyers. An assassin? Seriously?” I gave him a look.

  “I know you can handle it.”

  I snorted. “Of course I can, but this isn’t easy.”

  He looked up at the ceiling, probably begging the goddess for patience. “You are the only one I trust to get the job done. This guy is dangerous.”

  I sighed, dropping my head onto the counter. “Fine,” I grumbled. “This better pay well.”

  “Six hundred.”

  “Goddess. Who did he kill?” I asked, tilting my head on the desk so I could look at him.

  He glared at me. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  I rolled my eyes. Always with the rules, this one. Considering the mark, I felt I had a right to know where the bounty came from. Meyers’s business had a reputation for being discreet, and while he gave us the jobs and the crime, we never knew who wanted them brought in. I brought in the marks like a good bounty hunter, but I never knew where they went after that. We didn’t just deal with Desert City criminals, though; I knew that much. Half the marks I’d brought in were carted away in nondescript prison carriages.

  “You better hope he doesn’t kill me.” Leaning over the desk, I poked his chest.

  He gave me a tight smile. I cringed. Great joke, dumbass. His wife literally died three months ago.

  Giving him a wink, I added, “Don’t worry about me, Meyers. It’ll take more than a little assassin to take me out.”

  I’m going to die. Shit, this is it. Why did I take this fucking job?

  “Argh!” I cried out in pain when the whip lashed across my cheek.

  My. Frigging. Whip.

  The mark had proved a bit more difficult than I’d anticipated. Not only had he stolen my whip, he had begun to beat me to a pulp with the cursed weapon. I’d planned my moves carefully, but this guy had skill. He’d anticipated someone coming after him. Now he had me at his mercy, at least for a few minutes because I was getting ready to kill this motherfucker. Especially if he hit me one more time with the wh—

  My screams rang out, echoing off the mountains surrounding us and cutting off my angry thoughts. No one heard my cries—or no one cared to help. My wrists were tied to my ankles, placing me in a very precarious position. Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in anything but torturing me with my own weapons. This dude wanted me to hurt. He had yet to use magic, rendering Lumi useless. My best hope was the tranqs strapped to my thigh.

  Rule number two of the unwritten rules of bounty hunters: Never lose the upper hand.

  “Enough.” Pleading with the crazed man was useless, but I hoped it would keep him from noticing my wrists tugging at the knots. The rope had loosened a little, but I’d have to do some serious damage to my hand to get it out and grab the shooter.

  “I don’t think so,” he said in a strange accent. “There’s not nearly enough blood for my liking.”

  The whip snapped, cracking in the air. I grunted when it hit my side. My white shirt had turned red courtesy of the friendly neighborhood assassin. I looked around through swollen eyes. We were in some sort of basin. My mark blended in with the rocks, or so I thought. My eyesight had gone a bit blurry around the edges.

  I heard him drop the whip.

  He laughed when he heard me sigh in relief. “We aren’t done yet.”

  The rattling of a chain made my back stiffen. I knew that sound.

  Shit.

  My arms worked frantically, straining and pulling at the ropes. The metal whip made whirring sounds in the air.

  Come on, come on.

  The rope became slick with blood. I had no choice. One blood-curdling scream escaped me. I’d gotten my left hand free. My right grabbed the shooter, aiming it in the direction of the blob slowly moving toward me. The dart went airborne just as the steel links slammed into my head.

  Blackness descended. I fell to the side, groaning as sounds warbled, the world dimming and lighting in sparks. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard him thud to the ground.

  Chapter Three

  “Ow,” I moaned, rolling to my side on the hard ground and blinking to clear my vision. Gravel bit into my shoulder, ripping open the tender skin. My eyes ached, still swollen from the abuse they’d taken. My whole body stung, like one gaping wound. I pushed off the ground to sitting, using my right hand to support myself. Air hissed between my teeth. My entire palm felt ripped open. I didn’t dare look at the left. Not yet. I cradled the injured arm to my chest.

  Bright sun shone down. Thank the goddess it was still daytime. The assassin lay on the ground, his hand clutching his thigh where my dart had stuck him.

  At least I did something right.

  “Great,” I grumbled when I tried to tap into Lumi. She had zero power. Zilch.

  I picked up the shooter and loaded it with a fresh dart. The assassin didn’t even flinch when the point stuck into his neck. A sharp breath escaped me when my ribs smarted. I had four hours to find a way to charge Lumi or find someone to help me.

  “All right, you bastard, up you go.” Bending down and hooking my arms under his armpits, I lifted him to sitting, accidentally bringing his face uncomfortably close to my crotch.

  “Sorry, dude.” I used one hand to keep him up, stepped over his legs and held him up by the shoulder with the other. After finally getting my hands adjusted, I dragged him toward the wooden cart I’d stolen, moaning against the pain enveloping my body. The wounds in my hands pulled painfully with each movement I made, my skin tugging apart.

  Thankfully, the family that owned the cart hadn’t been home, otherwise they probably would have thought I was a murderer coming for them next. By some miracle—or perhaps the adrenaline pumping through my system—I hefted the assassin onto the flat bed.

  Pulling out the last dart from my thigh holster, I weighed it in my hand. Each dose lasted four hours. I didn’t want to cause an overdose . . . But he was an assassin. Better him dead than me. I punctured his arm, hoping the distribution of darts would help prevent a fatal accident. Honestly, I don’t think it mattered. The poison had been pumping through his system for some time now. He’d either die or sleep for a very, very long time. At this point, either outcome was fine by me.

  I worked my jaw, trying to loosen it. My eyes fluttered closed, feeling the pain radiating from my mouth to my toes. Not to mention my ribs, which were most certainly broken. The bleeding wounds had nothing on bone injuries, though. I glanced up at the sky through half-shut eyes, the swell
ing obscuring most of my vision. Ripples of purple and red covered the once-blue sky, signaling the approach of nightfall. I needed to hurry.

  Gritting my teeth as my bloody fingers gripped the cart’s handles, I started toward Desert City. Death might have been preferable to the walk. Energy began to fade fast, my feet slowing to a mere shuffle. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, though the sky remained alight with a faint red-orange hue.

  The strip where headquarters resided was blessedly deserted, most residents already heading home for dinner. Bells sounded and a door sprang open. Meyers stepped out onto the pathway, gazing around.

  His eyes passed over my cart, doing a double-take before sprinting to me.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  I snorted, gripping the handles to keep from swaying on my feet. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  He arched his bushy brows so high they blended in with his hairline. I collapsed, smiling when my body hit the ground and I no longer had to feign energy I didn’t have.

  “Winter!” Meyers’s gruff voice chased me further into the void.

  Pain engulfed me upon waking, my eyes snapping open as I screamed.

  “I have to clean the wounds.”

  “The fuck you do, Meyers. Get that shit off of me.”

  “Would you rather contract a disease and die?” he asked.

  “Right now? Yes.”

  “Even the blue death?” His voice held a hint of interest, like he wanted to know my answer.

  I shuddered, imagining oozing lesions and blue-tinted skin. He poured more alcohol on the gouges covering my stomach.

  “I’ll take it,” I cried, tears leaking from my eyes.

  He pressed a cloth to me, forcing the cleansing liquid deeper into the wound. Breathing through my teeth, I glared at him. He rolled his eyes.

  “Near as I can tell, you broke two ribs, dislocated your jaw, almost lost enough blood to die and you complain about this? Goddess, woman, don’t be such a wimp.”

  I started to retort but a scream tore from my throat instead, arching my back when he poured the alcohol onto my leg. Meyers either didn’t have or know how to use healing magic, which was why I suffered through his treatments without hating him too much. When I heard him let out a heavy sigh, I opened one eye, watching as he leaned over and unclipped Lumi from my neck.

  “What are you doing?” The fear in my voice made me cringe. I was being a wimp.

  “You’ll forgive me for this later.”

  “For what?” My body clenched when his magic coursed over my wounds, expecting whatever magic he used to hurt. When nothing happened, I blinked at him in confusion.

  He smiled. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

  Chapter Four

  “Good morning,” I said, waking Meyers from his slumber. He had taken post in an oversized armchair. A pretty handmade blanket covered me as I lay on the small bed. I ran my hands over it, pretending to marvel at the craftsmanship. Fear held me paralyzed.

  Would it hurt to move?

  He blinked, clearing the sleep from his eyes and stretching his arms over his head.

  “Sherry made that.” Sorrow clouded his eyes.

  “It’s beautiful.” I looked around the small room, taking in the decorations. Sunny yellow paint, a small side table with a hand-sewn white covering. The vase of evermore flowers placed in the middle of the cloth, vibrant blue petals encasing a yellow core. A fluffy area rug lay between the bed and the chair Meyers sat in. The door, which opened to the rest of the house, revealed a darkened hallway.

  “You slept all night and most of the day.” He looked tired.

  So it was almost night then.

  “What happened with the assassin?”

  He chuckled. “No time for rest, eh? I closed the office after they picked him up this morning.”

  “Who?” I asked, carefully studying the dirt under my nails.

  As expected, Meyers ignored the question and stood up instead. His head almost reached the ceiling.

  “I’ll go make some food. Stop stalling and sit up. I bound you up pretty tight.”

  Perceptive asshole.

  Once he left, I gathered my courage and sat up. Much to my surprise, it didn’t hurt too badly. Large bandages were wrapped around my waist, secured by a metal clip. My wrists and hands were also wrapped and sore from the assassin’s torture. Breathing proved difficult, but I’d rather suffer than feel more pain. I had reached my pain quota for the month (all right, more like the year).

  The man obviously didn’t know me as well as he thought he did. I crept toward the door to my room, listening to Meyers banging around in the kitchen. When he turned on the sink, I moved, slinking down the hallway in the opposite direction toward the back door. Since I’d been invited over a lot before his wife died, I knew where to step to avoid the creaking floorboards.

  Did I regret leaving without saying goodbye? Yes. Did I regret leaving without having to deal with his protective ass getting in my way? No. Injuries aside, I felt fine. My head was clear, for the most part, and my bandages would keep my ribs secured. The rest were scrapes and minor wounds I could deal with on the run.

  Rule number four in the unwritten rules of bounty hunters: Be self-reliant.

  I had already wasted precious time while I slept. Fleeing would keep Meyers safe. Staying only meant waiting for my death sentence and I wasn’t keen on dying. So, I ran like a scared little fool. When I reached the back door, the water turned off. I froze, waiting for some racket to cover the door opening and closing. Seconds ticked by; my sore muscles whined at me. I ignored them.

  A few thuds came from the kitchen before the sounds of vegetables being chopped reached my ears. Time to go. A twist of the knob eased the door open, and I slipped through before closing it with a soft click. Taking a moment to catch my breath and slow my thundering heart, I whispered a final goodbye, hoping Meyers would understand.

  Slipping through the town undetected proved easy. I stuck to the shadows, avoiding the heavily trafficked areas with shops and stores. My home lay just ahead but I paused, caution gripping me. Shaking off the uncertainty, I rushed inside, hearing no sounds and not seeing anything amiss.

  A quick trip to the bathroom was all time allowed. After scrubbing my body with a wet cloth, I pulled on a new pair of shorts and a tank, then loose pants and a jacket. The desert could get cold at night. I strapped the thigh holster on and then my toolbelt. Everything felt right. Pulling out a bag, I shoved my surplus of darts, a few sets of clothes, the money from my last jobs, and a pair of boots into it before slinging it on my back. I slipped out the back just as a fist banged on my front door.

  Sneaking into the barn undetected didn’t take much effort. Really though, leaving the door unlocked basically screamed steal my horse. So I did. A beautiful brown and white paint. The mare looked healthy and young, perfect for a long, strenuous ride. Her saddle and tack sat outside her stall, convenient but stupid given the unlocked door.

  Real frigging stupid.

  “All right, Beauty, let’s get you ready.” Some oat treats were on a table by the stall. I picked one up and held my hand flat in front of her mouth. She gobbled up the goodie. I smirked, tucking a few extra treats into my pocket. I’d never met a more compliant animal; we were ready to go in no time.

  “Come on,” I said, tugging on her reins and leading her from the stall. We cleared the property before I hopped on, pushing Beauty into a full gallop. I held on, letting her run like something evil chased after us.

  The wind rushed over me, whipping my hair up. Beauty kicked up her pace, making the green juniper bushes blur with the brown dirt until desert gave way to high plains terrain. Cactus were replaced by long grasses and small shrubs.

  Once we passed through Plains Sector, the smallest of the five land sectors, I pulled on the reins, slowing the horse down as we edged into forest lands. Soon we were trotting through a throng of trees. The full moon provided just enough light for me to see in the d
ense forest. I hadn’t seen anywhere suitable to sleep. No clearings within the trees. Beauty plodded along, shaking her head when I squeezed her sides. She was done running. After riding into the wee hours of the morning, I was growing tired as well. I frowned. I did not want to sleep on the ground.

  A beacon of salvation came into view, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. A small beige cottage with a wraparound porch, the railing painted green, practically begged me to come inside. Trash and weeds covered the yard and garden. The front window was broken, jagged pieces of glass jutting up from the frame. Abandoned. A smile tugged at my lips, my hand smoothing down the horse’s neck.

  “We’re home,” I cooed to her.

  Beauty nickered.

  Yeah, I felt it too. Relief. Hopefully it wouldn’t be short-lived. I’d had enough bad luck this week.

  Chapter Five

  The cottage turned out to be a lot more work than I had anticipated. Grime and dirt covered every inch of the house. My injuries still hurt so cleaning the place took almost a week. After days of deep cleaning—all hard labor since I lacked magic to assist in cleaning the place—the cottage was in ship-shape. The front room had been the worst, since the window was broken. Thankfully the bedroom door had been closed, keeping most of the dirt and dust out.

  I had hoped the home would have a stable, but a walk around the property the first night I arrived left me disappointed. Beauty had found a new home close to town with a lovely couple, and they’d given me twenty coins for the mare. Hardly a fair trade, but she needed a shelter and food, neither of which I could provide.

  I stretched on the oversized bed, turning myself into a giant star. Why anyone would ever need a bed this big was beyond me. It could literally hold ten grown men. The house only had one bedroom, so perhaps the family that abandoned it had all slept together. Though there were two small cots lining the far wall of the bedroom. Maybe whoever lived here had had kids?