“I don’t have all day. The blade. Now.”
Thomas stumbled forward, and in his haste, the case thumped heavily onto the desk. He flinched at the sound and mumbled an apology. Charles nearly fainted—again.
I grinned, flashing my teeth. Trouble was, my grin didn’t have a soothing effect. The opposite in fact. Charles paled and stepped backward, bumping into a display case. The glass door rattled but thankfully didn’t shatter. If it did, I’d probably have an unconscious man lying on my pristine rug.
This was getting old and far too predictable.
Expelling an irritated breath, I lifted the lid on the case and ignored the clumsy twosome. Nestled against a red velvet liner was the Grimm’s blade. My predatory grin softened into a contented smirk. Finally, the revenge I sought was at hand.
Gently, I removed the dagger and examined it in the light. The craftsmanship was incredible. Colorful jewels of varying sizes encrusted the hilt, and the tip of the blade glinted, its sharpness seeming to mock other blades. It was safe to say I’d never seen an equal. But what truly made the dagger special was its infusion of magic, making it not only deadly to humans but certain supernatural creatures as well.
“Who’s the craftsman?” I asked with an awed whisper.
When neither merchant answered, I fixed a vicious glare on Charles. He coughed into his hand.
“The craftsman?” I demanded.
“More like crafts…woman, sir,” Charles stammered. “His daughter Liana Archer forged the weapon. It’s some of her finest work.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened, and he frowned at his business partner’s revelation. “Enough, Charles.”
“Your daughter?” My brow creased. It was surprising but made perfect sense. There was a delicate attention to detail and an almost enchanting curve in the steel. Her skill was undeniable. The blade sucked you in like a siren’s sweet voice, begging for the chance to slide between your ribs.It won’t hurt a bit,it promised.
I placed the blade back into the box and opened my desk drawer. For the past few years, I’d searched for someone with the ability to create mystical weapons. Few had the gift, and those who did remained hidden, selling their wares anonymously. It wasn’t a mystery why Thomas wanted to keep his daughter’s abilities a secret.
To many, my collection appeared to be a sickness, but to me, it was a cure. I thrived on the artistry it took to create an object as beautiful as it was deadly, and there was one weapon I wanted above all others. I had spent nights hunched over my worktable scratching pen across parchment, trying to recapture the design I’d only seen once before.
I placed a scroll on the desk. “Will she take a commission?” My heart raced while I waited for an answer. Hope bloomed inside my chest, a rare emotion not often found there.
“No.”
His refusal was curt and final. The rage must have shown on my face, because Charles made a noise in the back of his throat and looked pleadingly at Thomas to reconsider.
My brow arched. “No?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. I won’t ask it of her.”
“Why not?” I dared Thomas to reveal his reason even though I knew why. The answer was in his eyes: He didn’t want a man like me anywhere near his daughter. My presence might sully her, dim her talent, and make her fearful.
Normally, I found pleasure in the ability to elicit fear. It was intoxicating and addictive. It handed me control where control had been stripped from me in the past. But this time, denial formed on my lips, and an ache materialized in my chest where hope had been. I needed to meet the woman who wielded such remarkable talent. It was a gut feeling; a soul-deep understanding she would appreciate how something as ugly as a tool of death could still be beautiful to look at.
“No” wasn’t an option.
“I’ll pay you double.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Triple.”
Charles sucked in a breath, and this time, his right knee buckled.
“I’m sorry, but I must decline.” He bowed then cleared his throat. “We’ve completed our transaction and would be grateful if you allowed us to leave with our payment.”
Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest and made him wait before responding. “I can see you won’t be persuaded.”
“I will not.”
“Very well. You will be paid on your way out. Though, I insist you stay long enough for my cook to prepare a basket of food for your journey home.”
