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Chapter1
Abby
Dust kicked off my paws, dirtying the pale gray of my fur when I walked, a pack with my belongings secure over my back.
Head low, I wandered through the uneven streets of Pario City. Not for the first time, I wondered why no one ever bothered to pave the roads like the rest of the world. It was as if they deliberately kept the region in this perpetual state of untamed madness, if only to create an element of fear.
“Abigail! Abby!”
The sound of my name twisted my head dangerously behind me, nostrils flaring in preparation of a problem, but it was only Frankie, rubbing his arms as he lounged in the doorway of one of the crumbling bars across from my last drop of the day. Baring my teeth, I continued onward, but he didn’t take the hint, rushing after me like the delinquent he was.
“Abby, wait!” Frankie begged, but I didn’t slow down again.
I wanted to get home, the sun’s rays dipping brilliantly over the dusky horizon, casting an eerie pre-twilight glow on the streets. Not even I liked being out after dark—not that I couldn’t take care of myself on those occasions when I had no choice. But if I was given an option, Pario City was a place much better appreciated behind closed doors once dusk fully fell.
I growled, again flashing my fangs, but Frankie didn’t get the hint—or he was far too sketched out to heed it.
“Do you think you can front me a bit?” he asked in a staged whisper, leaning closer to touch my head. “I’ll pay you back. Just a pinch to get me through—”
Without warning, I latched onto the flesh of his skin, his cry reverberating through the alleyways as I tore, relishing the taste of blood in my mouth.
“LET ME GO!” he wailed, ripping his hand back from my jowls until he freed his palm.
Red oozed along my jawline, and Frankie stumbled dizzily as people flocked out of the shops to see what was causing the commotion.
“Dammit, Frank!” Maisie Jolie stomped over the boardwalk toward the center of the road, her heeled spurs clicking alarmingly as she glared at me. “How many times have I told you to leave the peddlers alone?”
I ignored the fae and quickened my pace, jutting into one of the quieter gangways. Ensuring that I was alone, I morphed back into my human form, pulling the easy-fit outfit from my pack while maintaining the integrity of the last drop-off.
Dressed in the same simple, black tracksuit I’d worn all day, I stuffed my feet into a pair of white sneakers and pinned my too-long tresses into a high, messy bun on top of my head before letting myself into an ajar fire door at the back of the gangway. A putrid comingling of ammonia and ash touched my overly sensitive nostrils, the scent still offensive after all these years.
Shifting the straps of my pack again, I shoved open the first door I encountered, startling the already jumpy occupant who whirled around in his broken swivel chair to look at me guiltily.
“Abby,” he sighed, relief coloring his face. “I almost forgot you were coming today.”
“I always come on Fridays, Sven,” I reminded him, the routine like some bad, outdated comedy sketch. I was starting to have déjà vu—and severe annoyance. Gritting my teeth, I plopped the bag onto one of the filthy, overcluttered tables in front of me, causing half a dozen beer cans to clatter to the ground. Sven almost jumped out of his skin at the sound.
“Easy, baby, easy,” he sighed, rising to his feet and abruptly pivoting toward the far wall where I knew he kept the safe. It was hidden in a good spot. Despite being a bookie, Sven hardly lived the part in the condemned building where we stood. He called it his “man cave.” But no one would ever think to look for the hundreds of thousands of dollars he squirreled behind the walls from cheated bets.
But that wasn’t my business. My business was unloading this score and getting the hell out of there before the fleas stuck to the velour of my tracksuit and the rubber soles of my shores became one with whatever the sticky substance was on the base of the unfinished floors.
“Half a kilo,” I announced, pulling the product from out of my backpack.
Sven hurried toward me, a bony finger extended toward the sealed powder as if he’d never seen it before, but this, too, was familiar for him. He’d burned through his last personal stash and was onto his next batch.
“Here.” He tossed an overstuffed envelope toward me, and I caught it with my left hand, wrist angled slightly to avoid having it fall on the floor.
Without a word, I spun around, eager to be the hell out of his suffocating purgatory before he burned another hole into his nose.
“Watch yourself out there,” Sven said, startling me as the toe of my sneaker crossed back over the threshold.
I glanced back toward him, a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair slipping from my poorly fashioned bun to cross over my view. Impatiently, I waved it away, scowling at the unsolicited advice.
“Really?” I snapped, irritated. “Be careful?”
Sven shrugged, unfazed by my expression.
“It’s a full moon. Haven’t you noticed? It brings out all the crazies.”
