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Chapter 1
Tori
It’s a hazy evening in the Crossroads, making my attempt at anonymity that much easier as I head out to meet a new client. The few people I pass on the sidewalk don’t speak to me, though several familiar faces nod in recognition and respect. Or maybe it’s less respect and more polite caution. Sort of a “Keep your friends close and your friendly neighborhood assassin closer.”
Located in what was once the midwestern United States—before humans learned that magical portals had opened throughout the world and supernatural creatures overtook modern civilization—the Crossroads is a tight-knit community that takes care of its own. If that sounds wholesome, it is… at times. But when wholesome and neighborly don’t solve the problem, they call me—the poisoner.
Thanks to my nymph mother and dark fae father, my unique magical gifts give me an affinity for coaxing nature along. Basically, that means I’m great at growing things—especially poisonous things. Thanks, Dad. Combine that with my halfway decent skill with a blade, and it’s safe to say that, if you want someone unalived in this city, you call me.
Not that I just walk around offing people willy-nilly. Supplies aren’t cheap in this economy, and I do have morals. Surprisingly strong ones, in fact, considering my line of work. But a girl’s gotta eat, and well, we all have our strengths. After a decade of mastering my craft and being very careful about the jobs I take on, my reputation in the Crossroads is more than enough to keep me busy with work.
It doesn’t bring me joy or anything. I didn’t wake up and choose a profession like this one. No one really does—unless you’ve got one too many screws loose. It happened slowly and as a matter of survival.
More specifically, Kendall’s survival.
Orphaned as a teen, it’s not like I had a ton of career options. What I did have was a younger sister to support and no parents left to help. So, I did what I was good at. And I traded any guilt over it for knowing I was protecting my sister from a world that would eat us alive if we let it.
I’ll do anything for Kendall—even kill. And those are not empty words. A fact I’ve proven again and again since our parents died. It’s not like I have a choice. Even so, I only target the ones who deserve it.
No innocents, my mother made me promise. She hated the work—a career my father never gave up, not even for her—but she loved him. And she couldn’t deny my inherited talents once they showed themselves. My mother was the kindest creature I’ve ever known, so it’s the least I can do to keep this promise to her, considering my decision to follow in Dad’s footsteps.
What can I say, the family business pays the bills.
Tonight’s assignment is like a hundred others I’ve done before. A drink at a bar with an entitled douche bag who thinks he’s a god’s gift to us all, a little hemlock and wolfsbane mixed into his whiskey and Coke when he’s not looking, resulting in the asshole taking a little nap from which he won’t ever wake.
The client isn’t someone I’ve worked with before. I simply know her as Em, a concerned citizen of the Crossroads. She came recommended to me by one of my regulars, a vampire named Uziah. He owns a club on the outskirts and has facilitated many jobs for me over the years. I trust him—as much as one can trust a guy who organizes professional kill contracts.
At least he honors my requirement for a backstory on my marks.
The brief recon I did on tonight’s mark revealed he’s just another power-hungry male trying to use our city’s newfound infamy to boost his own position. Ever since a portal opened to Tartarus three months ago in the center of downtown, we’ve had an influx of new faces. Outsiders come to scope out how they might claim this suddenly-valuable city as their own. Almost every other portal that exists in the world is now ruled by a House except for ours. No one has officially threatened us over it, but some people—like Uziah—believe it’s better to play offense than defense.
Out-of-towners arrive daily. Some are House emissaries. Some are aspiring politicians. Some just think they have a right to come here and use our lack of House affiliation to set up shop running drugs or weapons. But my fellow Crossroads residents are having none of it.
Word is, neither is Caius, Tartarus’ ruler, but the god-king prefers to stay on his side of the portal. There are rumors of a dark dragon who commands Caius’ army, a creature powerful enough to wipe out entire legions of men, but so far, he’s standing down as well. All of which has apparently sent the message that the Crossroads might be up for the taking.
The fact that one of our own—a Santiago sister no less—has become the queen of hell only makes the story that much more interesting. Reagan Santiago is a former graverobber by trade, and, according to rumors, also the chosen guardian of Caius’ soul, which he opened the portal to retrieve. By all accounts, Reagan’s survival was not high on his list of priorities in said retrieval—right up until the moment they met and he realized she was his mate.
The rest, as they say, is (recent) history. Hence, the reason for the swell in tourism. It’s not just that there’s a new portal open in the world. People want to know if there’s a power vacuum for the taking.
Spoiler: There’s not.
As far as I’m concerned, we don’t need gods or death dragons from hell fighting our battles. We’ve managed to avoid being claimed by a House this long, and our citizens have no intention of letting that change now.
I can’t say I’d choose to off tonight’s mark for simply doing political recon, but then I dug deeper and found a list of sexual assault allegations against him.
That’s enough for me.
As I walk toward the meeting point, my phone buzzes, and I check the screen, sighing when I see the caller’s name. I’m nearly there, which makes talking aloud to someone I care about dangerous, but I take the call anyway.
“Kendall? Is everything okay?” I ask in a low voice.
“Everything’s fine,” my sister says in a tone that suggests I’m being ridiculous for worrying.
Oh, to be sixteen and blissfully naïve. Not that I ever had that luxury. My parents died when I was sixteen, leaving me to raise Kendall on my own. I’ve lived with the pressure of that for a decade now, and it only seems to get worse as she gets older. Raising teenagers is harder than offing people, I swear.
“You’re supposed to be at work until ten,” I point out.
“I got off early.”
