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My bright purple hair probably undercut any attempts at sternness.
I’ve considered switching out the dye I bought off the shelves at Walmart, trading the purple for something closer to my natural dark brown, but that just seemed boring.
And who wants that?
No—anyone who worked with me would have to accept me as I was, purple hair and all. Never mind the fact that the “and all” includes a tattoo of an anchor over my right boob, courtesy of a Vegas bender with the aforementioned dead vampire ex-husband, who back then was merely a sailor I’d met and married just a few days before.
There was no getting rid of the tattoo, either. With my fair Irish skin, removing it would have left an unsightly scar that no amount of tattoo-removal experience could avoid. In fact, when I’d talked to an experienced tattoo removal specialist about it, he’d grimaced, and I had never wished so much that I had received a slightly larger proportion of my coloring from my mother’s Mexican heritage.
Anyway, there I was, a 22-year-old supernatural bounty hunter with purple hair, a tattoo I couldn’t get rid of, a business I was still learning how to run alongside my stoner best friend, who was dating my drag queen secretary… trying to seem like I was in charge of my life.
Yeah. Hi. I’m Tessa Fury, accidental bounty hunter.
And although I didn’t know it, I was about to get burned.
Badly.
CHAPTER 2
Before the man sitting across from me could say anything, a rattling sound from the ceiling startled him.
The guy leaped from the chair, wild-eyed and twitchy. I could have told him the noise was just the building’s crappy AC trying to keep up with the sweltering heat, but he’d already rushed out of my office and was headed toward the back door.
“Wait—!” But the words were pointless; he was already gone.
Or so I thought.
I blinked sweat from my eyelashes, about to slump against the doorframe, when movement by the back door snagged my attention. My mouth dropped open, disbelief pinning me in place.
The guy was still there, standing stock-still, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob.
What the…
I could’ve sworn he’d left—I heard the door slam shut behind him.
“¿Qué demonios...?” I murmured to myself, the Spanish slipping out as it so often did in emotional moments.
Stunned silence held me captive. Could’ve been seconds or hours; time seemed irrelevant when faced with the impossible.
His illusion shimmered around him like heat waves on pavement.
Most folks can’t bend reality to their will, and those who can aren’t usually the kind you want to bump into in a poorly air-conditioned office—or anywhere, really.
“Nice trick,” I managed to say, voice steady despite the jolt of adrenaline. “You’re not the first magic man to waltz through here, but you sure know how to make an entrance.”
His presence in my little corner of the world didn’t add up yet, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before I was hunting down the pieces.
Suddenly, it wasn’t just the heat that was making me sweat.
“All right, Casper, start talking,” I said. My hand edged toward the drawer where I kept a few tricks of the trade—stakes, silver bullets, the usual supernatural repellant.
“Please, call me Cairo,” he said, his British accent wrapping around the name like silk. There was an urgency to his posture, a sort of haunted desperation that hovered in his dark eyes. “I mean you no harm, Tessa Fury. I’m merely seeking refuge.”
“Refuge, huh?” I leaned back against my desk, trying to appear nonchalant while my mind raced. “You know, ‘I come in peace’ is pretty high on the list of Famous Last Words right before everything goes sideways.”
“I understand your suspicion.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting hellhounds to burst through the wall at any moment. “But I assure you, I am in far more danger than you are from me.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, tapping a rhythmless beat on my thigh. “See, most folks who bust in here looking for hidey-holes tend to have names, faces, or very pissed off magical beings plastered on my bulletin board. Which one are you?”
