Yeah, that would completely screw me over, all right. Until recently, governments didn’t know paranormals even existed, but about ten years ago that changed, and theyaren’t happy about it. I haven’t dared to tell Ms. Stryker or any other human what I am. Even if I could convince the Feds I wasn’t an actual demon from hell—and that’s a big if—I’m sure I’d be kept on a short leash my entire life. I’d never be able to get a real human job. Best-case scenario, I’d have to work for them or something, locked away. More likely, considering how weak I am, they’d just use me for some kind of lab experiment, the kind where you dispose of the bodies after.
I don’t even bother asking him how he would turn me in and not get caught himself. He’s in full armor, assaulting someone in front of a police station. He’s not going to have any trouble staying off their radar.
I must look as miserable as I feel because he says, “There, there, Alvin. That’s merely the stick. Of course, if you’re successful, I will compensate you. When you bring me the watch, I will pay you thirty thousand US dollars. Nothing glamoured—real currency. Enough, I imagine, to get you that camera you’ve had your eye on, along with a fair amount of independence from your mother. At least for a time.”
Okay. Wow. I’m flat broke and my internship with Ms. Stryker is unpaid, so thirty thousand dollars would be a life-changing amount of money for me. There’sa lotthat I’d do for thirty thousand dollars. Even though my boss thinks I’m too weak-sauce to teach any spells to, she did say that if I had my own camera, I might be able to help with the more normal PI cases. And that kind of cash could definitely get me out from under my mother’s thumb, which would be an even bigger deal. But how doesheknow all that?
“How do you know so much about me?”
He contemplates me blandly, like he’s reading a shopping list. “You take the same route back and forth to your internship every day. Go to the same grocery store every Saturday. Gaze longingly at the consumer electronics in the same Chinatown shop windows every Sunday. And you talk to your mother on the phone beside your open kitchen window at the end of every month when you become desperate for your next rent check. You are a creature of habit and desire, Alvin Alonso, and for my kind, that makes you a very open book.”
I grit my teeth. Maybe he is an asshole elf, but it might as well be Ms. Stryker lecturing me on security hygiene. I’m a paranormal with a lot to lose if I’m discovered, and I haven’t been careful. OfcourseI’m easy to blackmail!
Whether I learn how to cast spells or not, if I’m even a little bit serious about becoming a real paranormal investigator someday, I’ll need to get smarter. A lot smarter. That is,ifI survive this insane heist I’ve gotten myself roped into.
The elf extends his hand, his smile broad. “So, do we have a deal?”
And there it is. Fae are legendary for their unbreakable bargains, and humans are terrified of accidentally getting trapped into one. (At least the few on the Internet who suspect such things exist.) But while you can be coerced, you can’t actually gettrickedinto a real Obligation—if you don’t truly understand what you’re agreeing to, it doesn’t count. And anyway, most humans don’t have enough magic to feel consequences if they did break a fae deal.
But for paranormals, like me, it’s another matter. Evenif we’re never able to do anything with it, magic is intrinsic to what we are. Mother barely has a protective bone in her body, but she did make me swear up and down as a kid toneveraccept a deal with a fae. Not even for something small.
Well, looks like I’m going to find a whole new way to disappoint her. Yay.
I can at least try not to be completely stupid about it.
“You say the guy is not going to be there, and the doors are unlocked. You mean I can just walk in and take it? No guard dogs, security, or anything?”
“Well, I’d certainly recommend being more discreet than you usually are. You never know if the neighbors might be watching. But there should be nothing in the house that can cause you harm. Idoneed the watch, and I have no illusions about your ability to defend yourself.”
“Fair enough. Do other fae or anyone else you’re associated with know about me?”
“No. I’ve kept that information to myself. For now.”
“Great. Then if I do this, you have to promise you will never reveal my identity to anyone, or ever use what you know about me against me in any way. You get to play this blackmail card once, and never again.”
The elf smiles, mildly impressed. “That’s a very reasonable and wise addendum to our agreement, Alvin. I accept that stipulation,ifyou get me what I’ve asked for.”
It’s at least something. Supposedly the fae can lie, but they can’t break a deal. Ever.
I extend my hand. “I’ll get you your damn watch.”
We shake, and then I immediately feel it, like heavy chains falling onto my shoulders. TheObligation. I haveknowingly given a fae my word, and now all the magic inside me (what little there is) has been bent to that purpose.
He hands me an address written in fine calligraphy on the back of a fancy hotel napkin. And before I can even ask him his name and how I’m going to get the watch to him, he vanishes into thin air.
Typical.
Whether I like it or not, I’m in it now. Normally, after a boring day sorting Ms. Stryker’s mail and answering her phone, I’d go home to scarf some Lean Cuisine on the couch and fall asleep in front of the TV. Looks like tonight, I’m going to steal a magical artifact for a fae.
And the weird thing is, there’s a part of me that’s actually looking forward to it.
2
My newfound enthusiasmfor danger and adventure doesn’t last long. By the time I ride the rickety brass elevator up to Ms. Stryker’s small eleventh-floor suite in the Aston Building, I’m flashing through all the ways I could wind up shot or worse if this little heist goes pear-shaped. It doesn’t help that my butt crack still stings from when the elf yanked me by the waistband of my pants against the wall. God-tier wedgies—apparently just a taste of what life is like when you get mixed up with the fair folk.
But there’s no point in dwelling. If I don’t comply, the fae Obligation will make me horrifically sick. Supposedly, over time, it can even kill you. I have to steal that watch tonight whether I like it or not.
I unlock the door to the cramped reception area of Ms. Stryker’s two-room office and scoot behind the cheap particleboard desk she got me last month. Right now what I need is distraction, so I force myself to focus on the little work Stryker actually lets me do. First, there’s the thinstack of envelopes I grabbed from the old-school copper mailbox in the building’s 1930s art-deco ground-floor lobby. I shuffle through each one, visually scanning for curses. (It’s the only real magical thing I can do.) All of it is junk without a trace of spellcraft, so they go straight into the trash. Then I power up the office’s ancient beige PC, hit play on the landline’s cassette-tape answering machine, and log the night’s messages in a Word 97 doc. (It can’t run anything newer. Stryker isn’t much for tech or for buying new things to make my job easier. The computer was gathering dust in a corner. I was lucky to get the secondhand furniture.)
