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When she took it, I used the opportunity to slip the bug in her pocket. It was a standard surveillance bug, but I’d spelled it to be undetectable for the next twenty-four hours.
“It was nice to meet you, Kinsley.” I let her pass. “I hope I’ll see you again.” I meant it.
Chapter Three
Grif stepped out from the side of the building to intercept me. Shit. I thought he was hanging back at the motel until I delivered the intel.
Grif and I rarely worked together, and for good reason. Vamps and witches didn’t often play nice, but it was more than that. We were as different as two Shadows could be. Not only did Grif have that whole tall, dark, and deadly vibe people expected from assassins, he’d been a butcher before he was turned. That type of skill, paired with the demon he now carried inside, made Grif ideally suited for this kind of work. He could take apart his targets with methodical precision, making death as quick or as protracted as the situation called for.
Me? Despite all of Aleksei’s teachings, I had too much fire in my veins to do things by the book. Grif had little patience for my tendency to improvise on the job—which was probably why Aleksei had assigned him as my warden.
He didn’t bother with courtesy, getting right in my face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
I smiled. “Would you believe renewing my library card?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the alley. I didn’t try to jerk out of his grasp. He was too strong for that. Instead, I concentrated on my magic until my fingertips sparked. “Hands off,” I warned. Vampires and fire didn’t mix.
He released his grip and stalked ahead of me, leaving me to trail after him like a good little Shadow. When he stepped into an alcove, I pressed my back to the wall beside him.
He turned to scowl at me. “You’re compromising this op. Be a fucking professional for once.”
Grif was all about cold efficiency on the job. There was nothing he hated more than someone going off script. He was the most uptight vampire I’d ever met, and that was saying something. The man probably ironed his underwear.
I sighed. “You’re overreacting. I wanted a closer look at the girl. That’s all.”
His eyes flared vampire red. “Don’t lie to me.”
“What do you want?” I countered. “We shouldn’t be seen together.”
Grif leaned in, his breath fanning across my cheek. “I want you to do your job, so I don’t have to clean up your mess. And leave your petty vendetta at home.”
I bristled. There was nothing petty about my vendetta. Eli set me up ten years ago and watched me take the fall. Worse, he drained half a dozen witches with the magic I gave him. He’d groomed me for a year, telling me all the things a sheltered sixteen-year-old wanted to hear. He’d showered me with praise and attention and fanned the belief that I could make a difference.
It took me months to get his potion right, and all the while I worked on it, I believed every lie he fed me. I thought I was making an additive that would extend the shelf life of donated blood. So many nights, I’d rested my head on his chest and gazed up at the night sky while he spun tales of a new, more humane food source for vampires. A reality we could create together.
When he gave me the potion instructions, I hadn’t questioned where he got them. After countless afternoons combing through books in the special collection, I eventually located the right incantation to activate it. When I’d handed over the perfected batch, I ignored the flutter of unease that snaked through me at the triumph on Eli’s face. That night was the last I saw him.
By the time the bodies were found, Eli had gone to ground, and every breadcrumb led straight back to me. There were enough traces of the potion in the dead witches’ blood for the coven leaders to identify it as forbidden magic. In reality, the potion had been the magical equivalent of MSG for bloodsuckers. It enhanced the flavor of Eli’s victims and transformed their blood into a powerful vampire aphrodisiac that—once bottled—he’d dubbed Nectar and sold for big bucks on the underground market.
Even with a limited supply, Eli had made a lot of money off the lone batch I’d brewed. My only consolation was that no other witch strong enough to brew him another batch would be dumb enough to fall for his bullshit. Until Kinsley.
The week I made the potion, Eli deposited enough money in an account under my name at a local bank that the investigation was quickly tied up with a neat little bow. He’d walked away a rich man and left me to suffer the fallout.
If it hadn’t been for my fire magic manifesting in the days following my arrest, my life would have been forfeited. But a fire elemental was too powerful to waste. As the governing body for the supernatural world, the Enclave hoarded power like I stashed chocolate. I may not be a natural like Grif, but—thanks to Eli—the Enclave honed me into another kind of weapon in their arsenal.
Grif glared down at me. “Did you make contact?”
“Yup.” There was no point in lying. “I planted a bug to speed things along.” And hopefully give me enough ammo to trigger a kill order before Kinsley did something she couldn’t come back from.
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“Plans are overrated.” I shrugged. “I saw an opportunity, so I took it.”
Grif swore and stalked away, his burner phone already to his ear, so he could tattle to the boss. I waited until he’d disappeared before heading to my car.
My steps slowed as I recognized the man getting out of the truck next to my parking spot. It was too late to turn around since he’d already spotted me. In a town this size, it was inevitable that word would get out about my homecoming. But the timing sucked. At least, Kinsley was long gone.
Martin was the most dangerous of Eli’s vampire sidekicks, with the build of a shifter and the disposition of a shark. His eyes lit with malice as I froze. He crossed the distance between us with a smile on his face. “If it isn’t Little Miss Goody Two Shoes, slinking home in disgrace.”
