Catch Flame 6q3x17

Catch Flame

The Combustion Chronicles Book 2

Olivia R. Burton

© 2021 Olivia R. Burton. All Rights Reserved www.OliviaRBurton.com

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 9781734152845

Peacock Deceiving a Suitcase www.PeacockDeceivingASuitcase.com

Contents

Also by Olivia R. Burton

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About the Author

Also by Olivia R. Burton

Gwen Arthur Novels

Mixed Feelings

Business With Pleasure

Cold Feet

Hollow Back Girl

Change of Heart

Lady Killer

Bone to Pick

Flesh and Blood

The Writer’s Overnighter

Gut Feeling

Suckered In

Split Second

The Preternatural PNW

Rattle

Throb

Metal

Murmur

Knell

The Combustion Chronicles

Take Fire

Catch Flame

Collaborations

age Through Moonlight

The Godfather’s Naughty Daughter

Song of the Argyle Goddess

Belladonna Clasped

Cash Grab

The Harbormaster’s Shack

1

“Okay,” I said, mainly as a stall tactic to keep the swear words at bay. “Okay. This is the third line I’ve waited in today and you’re the third person who’s told me I have the wrong form.” “I under—” I didn’t have the patience to let her finish. “Just tell me which form I need to get my license back.” “Like I told you,” the woman said, with enough attitude that I felt the flames just beneath my skin threaten to leak out my pores. “Form two-Q-X-dash-six-four is for new license requisition. You need two-Q-Z-dash-eight-nine.” “But the last guy I spoke with said two-Z—no, two-Q-dash—shit.” I clenched my fists, both to quell the flames that wanted to sprout and grow up my arms like thorny vines and just out of frustration. This fucking bureaucratic nightmare was testing my memory and patience in equal measure. “That one, the second one was for freelance operations.” “Well, technically it is,” the lady said, a spark of excitement lighting her drab eyes. “As a bounty hunter you are a freelance employee, working for the—” “Good goddess,” I snapped, feeling embers spark off my knuckles to hit the ground and cling to the front of the desk. It was wood, but we were in the heart of Central Station, which was warded up the wazoo so people like me couldn’t burn it down. I mean, angry people, not just elementals, because I certainly couldn’t be the only fed up threat here. “Just give me the damn form. Give me all the forms. Just—just march into the back, grab me a random stack, and hand them over. I’ll fill them all out and just fucking pray to the goddess that at least one of them will work!” My flame jumped like an excited tick from the side of the desk to the shoe of the patron in the line next to me. I only barely noticed the feel of it moving, so

caught up in my own resentment and rage that it hardly ed when the ember grabbed hold of the man’s shoelace and started chewing. “Ma’am, there’s no need for that language. We don’t keep physical copies of the forms here on site, but you’re welcome to visit our website—” “Whatever!” I said, louder than I’d intended. If I had to hear one more person suggest navigating their labyrinthine website as if it hadn’t started me down this horrible and futile path, I was going to scream. “Just give me back the forms I already gave you!” Frustrated with my bad attitude, the clerk shoved my small stack of paperwork through the narrow slot at the bottom of the window, and then yelled, “NEXT!” before I’d even collected them. My rage jumped up another notch, catching the paperwork as I touched it and setting both it and the shoe of the man next to me aflame. “Shit!” I yelped, watching the paper flame out into ash within an instant. My oath was echoed by the man next to me and then, to my horror, the woman who’d been helping—well, she hadn’t been helping, so much as speaking with— me as my flame clawed its way through the slot in her station. Like a prowrestler game to get the match started, it flung itself forward to grapple with a paper cup. The side disintegrated before she’d finished cussing and creamy coffee spilled out across the desk. Panicked, I grabbed for my power, trying to pull it back, trying to control it, trying to stop it from just eating everything as people around me reacted as you do when some asshole fire elemental is setting fire to everything. Worry was setting in, people were jerking back, trying to decide between running for their lives and losing their hard-earned place in line. If they’d been waiting half as long as I had, I wasn’t certain any of them would consider saving their lives enough of a reason to abandon their posts. The clerk jumped back from her desk as my flame consumed her to-go cup and then moved onto her tin of pens. The man with the flaming shoe managed to kick it off, but it only bounced off the desk to land near a woman who’d made the unknowingly foolish decision of wearing canvas sneakers. My flame leapt like a playful kitten, gripping her shoe and holding on while she screamed.

“Sorry!” I cried, still frantically calling my flame, trying to force my power to retreat, to dissipate, to die down, or even just come back to cling to me instead of everything else. I can’t be hurt by my own fire, so it wouldn’t be the first time I’d run out of a building on fire to save myself the trouble of being handed a ticket for reckless conjuring. But, if I wasn’t careful, my flame was going to hit a pocket of something that, for reasons I’d never learned, made it bigger and deadlier than anything I could control. Then it’d be more than cups of pens and footwear left burnt to a crisp. The rapid sound of high-heels preceded a hand gripping my shoulder and yanking me to the side. I collided with a large man who smelled like he’d been stuck in line for a few days. We stumbled, both ungainly and confused, before I felt the bitter, frigid sting of water magic douse not only my flames but my bare skin. Letting out a wail of frozen shock, I flailed, hoping I could get back my balance before I got hit with another splash. Awkwardly, I whirled around to find a familiar water elemental watching me with a disappointed glare. “Sophia Wagner, why am I not surprised?” “Uhhh.” As I failed to form words, my eyes darted to the clerk to find her staring at her flooded desk with a snarl. When she turned it on me, I switched my attention back to the water elemental. “How ya doin’ Catherine?” “All right everyone, go back to your business. Everything’s under control. Sophia,” she said, turning to me as her smile disappeared faster than my fire had when hit with her magic. “Come with me.” “I was actually just leav—Okay.” I withered under her look, wrinkling my nose and hunching my shoulders as she turned smoothly and began heading toward one of the side doors marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. I followed, if only because I really had no choice, but I knew nothing good was going to come from Central’s head of civilian security coming to deal with me personally. Catherine O’Hearn walked as if she owned the place, striding easily past strangers and coworkers alike as if she expected, on some level, for them to drop to their knees and bow. Her black hair was whirled up in a perfect up-do, not a strand out of place, and the curve of her bangs across her forehead highlighted her ice-blue eyes. Her skin was pale, even more so than mine, but I knew her complexion was genetic, rather than the sad result of having no social life and

never spending time in the sun. She was curvy and fit, the very picture of elegance and poise, which I’m sure only made me look like more of a disaster as I trailed along behind her in my ratty jeans and thinning t-shirt. My dark hair had started out frizzed and messy but a day spent tearing it out in frustration had only made it worse. Top that off with my being too lazy and too broke to afford makeup, and that left Catherine toting along a fire elemental who looked more like a starved, unstable hobo than a useful member of society. Shame kept me quiet as we moved through the muted hallways toward her office and I felt distinctly like I had as a child when similar incidents had sent me to the principal’s office. “What are you doing here, Sophia?” Catherine asked me as she gestured for me to take a seat in the visitor’s chair in her office. “I’m trying to get my license back,” I said, ignoring the chair, determined to explain myself. “But no one here seems to know how to help me. Please.” “I think you just don’t know how to help yourself,” she said, disregarding my clasped hands and desperate eyes to walk around to sit at her desk. “Everything you need is laid out clearly on the website.” “Have you been to your website? Whoever designed it is a masochist. Or an idiot.” Catherine smirked but did her best to hide it. I saw the twitch of her vibrant red lips though, and could tell she sympathized with me on some level. Deciding this was as much help as I was going to get that day, I scurried to the visitor’s chair, perching my skinny ass on the edge of it to beg for just a bit more. “I’ve been given four forms—one of which was chosen by your stupid website and which turned out to be a fishing license. None of them are any help and I’m getting desperate.” “Getting?” Catherine asked, before shifting to slide out the drawer to her left without looking down at it. “Okay, I’m more than desperate. I’m—I’m—crazed. I’m frustrated. I’m

irritated.” Taking a deep breath, deciding she would be able to understand honesty, even if she couldn’t relate to what I was about to say, I pressed on. “I’m broke.” “Ah,” she said, glancing down into the drawer she’d opened. I heard papers shuffle before she pulled out a folder filled with a small packet of forms notated by little, plastic sticky flags. “This is everything you need.” “You just had that ready?” I demanded, feeling slighted but stupid for not just having thought to come to her in the first place. We’d known each other long enough that I probably could have. We weren’t exactly friends, so she may have still made me wait in line, but at least it would have only been one. “You’re not exactly the first fire elemental to nearly burn the place down over a lost license,” she said, before sighing. “Ironically.” She handed me the packet, flipped quickly through it, and then took a pen from her cup and handed that over too. The action had the air of her not believing I could afford a pen but I couldn’t blame her for thinking that. Leaning back, she gave me a once-over, tilting her head curiously. “Aren’t you dating the Magistrate?” “What?” I demanded, having uncomfortable flashbacks to the former head of city government, before I realized whom she meant. “Oh. Goddess no.” “I heard you two were … close.” I winced at the idea, though I couldn’t really tell you why. “We’re … We worked together for a bit. I guess we’re friendly. I don’t really date, though.” “Hmm.” The sound spoke volumes. There was a long pause, before she jerked her chin. “Take the packet, get it filled out, and bring it back to me. If you hurry, you can get into the next anger management course.” “When’s it start?” I asked, grabbing the packet but leaving the pen. “Three days.” “Damnit,” I hissed. Catherine chuckled.

“I said to hurry. Bring what you’ve got to me before then and I’ll have it pushed through. Just try to get everything filled out and don’t misspell your name.” I arched a brow at her as a fresh round of insult thrummed through me. She looked put-out. “It happens more often than you’d think.”

I left Catherine’s office with the intent of speeding to the exit and getting outside before anyone else assaulted me and tried to make me fill out a form to build a pool or renovate a bridge. I’d had it with Central Station and just wanted to get the hell out of there. I hadn’t always hated the place, despite its confusingly bland hallways, rude employees, and aggravating bureaucracy. It had mainly started to get my goat when my best friend had been murdered there. You don’t recover from something like that, even when the people who replace him aren’t so bad. “Sophia,” a smooth, familiar voice called, making me jerk slightly with discomfort. I wanted to ignore it, to walk a little faster toward the exit, or maybe jump down the garbage chute, but the vampire calling my name knew me well enough to prevent me from doing any of that. “Beau,” I said, not trying to hide the sigh in my voice as he fell into step next to me. I glanced over at him and, despite my previous rabid denial of our relationship status, I took a second to ire him. Power looked good on him, but I guess when you’re a few hundred years old, rich as a small country, and getting paid to run a whole city, you have to look fancy. His brown hair was styled as if a team had done it the moment before he’d started walking, his suit made his slim body look elegant and sexy, and the shine on his shoes could have blinded a charging rhino. I resented all of it. “I’m actually on my way out.” “I’m sure you can spare a moment to speak with me,” he insisted smoothly, making my eye twitch. “Oh look at that,” I said, pointing vaguely toward one of the clocks on the wall. “I already have. Nice talking to you.” Unbothered by my refusal, Beau wrapped his arm around my shoulders, scooping me toward his office like I was nothing more than a pile of trash that needed to be swept into the bin. I grumbled but didn’t fight too hard. It wouldn’t have done any good against his strength and I secretly hoped he had some good news about the status of my bounty-hunting license. I wasn’t going to debase myself and ask for his help, but I’d lost the damn thing getting him his job, after all. It would have made sense for him to disappear the

offense that had cost me my livelihood. He shut the door to his office after we were tucked inside and I did a quick look around, noticing he’d pulled all the blinds closed so no one could see in. Squinting, I wondered if the place was soundproofed as well, or if the blinds were a useless argument against the superior senses of the vampire cops out in the bullpen. “Did you know people think we’re dating?” I demanded, loud enough that I hoped even humans outside heard us. “Do they?” he asked, his tone indicating he knew damn well what people thought. “Well, rumors abound in a place like this.” “Is that so?” I sneered. “So everyone’s heard about how you got blown over by a dog whistle and had to be rescued by a girl?” “It was you who left that building wrapped in my arms, as I recall,” Beau purred, closing in to grin down at me lasciviously. I wrinkled my nose, snarling for effect, but I wasn’t quite able to pull my gaze away from the golden rays piercing the sunny yellow of his eyes. “What do you want?” I asked finally, turning to step away as if he smelled bad and I needed to get out of his personal bubble to escape the odor. “As you know, my tenure as Magistrate is temporary, at least initially. Elections will be held soon and I was hoping you’d be willing to help me secure the position on a more permanent basis.” “You want me to make some calls, knock on some doors or something?” “Nothing so strenuous,” Beau assured me, clasping his hands behind his back and looking me over once as if considering my outfit and judging it to be lacking. I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest and jerking my chin his way. “What?” “You look thin.”

“You look snooty,” I said, annoyed at his assessment of me. He didn’t need to know I was running out of what meager savings I had and that I’d been scamming leftovers rather than buying food for myself. “What’s it matter?” “Isn’t Ansel taking care of you?” “He’s not my mother,” I growled, taking a step forward to jam my finger into Beau’s chest. His tie was insanely soft, making me pause for a split second at the feel of it, before I pressed on. “And neither are you. Get to the point. Why did you haul me in here?” Beau watched me carefully for a few moments, unmoved by my temper or my proximity, before he reached down and snatched the folder out of my hand. “Catherine gave this to you, yes?” “What are you doing?” I demanded, flailing and trying in vain to grab it back from him, even as my insides sang hymns of joy at the idea that I might be able to get my license back. My gut led the chorus, eagerly anticipating all the food I’d be able to buy with my first paycheck. “Give me that!” “You really don’t need all of this, you know,” he said, flipping to the back. “This sheet here really just needs to be signed by the Magistrate and you’re good to go. Isn’t that a handy coincidence?” “Not really,” I growled, watching in annoyance as he slid the page out and carefully set it on top of the folder, before reaching for a shiny, thick pen that sat next to an equally shiny ink well on his desk. “I beg to differ,” Beau said, plucking the pen out easily, but not bringing it to paper. “You’re looking to get your license back and I need a date for a campaign dinner held in my honor.”

2

“Are you trying to extort a date out of me?” I demanded, angry and horrified all at once. The idea of Beau and I in a relationship was a mortifying idea on its own, but it definitely wouldn’t come on its own. It would have hustled up with an armful of other problems, dragging complications and issues behind it like a kid with a wagon full of trash. Beau and I sort of worked together, or we would if I ever got my license back. He’s a vampire, I’m a fire elemental who doesn’t date and, on top of all that, he’s rich and fancy. I don’t own a single shirt without a hole in it. Besides all that, though, I’d thought we were friends. Bristly, sniping friends who don’t really hang out or check up on each other, but friendly anyway. Now here he was, pen poised over my livelihood, offering it up to me on the condition that I agree to don frilly clothes, take a shower, and follow him into a den of—I was assuming—other rich vampire assholes so he could keep his job. What sort of bullshit was that? “Sophia, that’s not what’s—” “Just keep your stupid paperwork,” I snapped, fired up almost as hot as I’d been at the clerk upstairs. “I’ll find my own way.” “You’re not—” “I’m leaving,” I growled, whirling around and storming out of his office to prowl through the bullpen toward the door, fuming all the while. I kept my mouth shut, responding to the greetings tossed my way with only a nod of my head or a brief wave of my hand. I didn’t dare speak, lest I say something that even a room full of hardened vampire cops—shit, was it dark already? Damnit, how much time had I wasted here?—would find offensive and unnecessary.

I drove my beat up old car through the fancy neighborhood I live in, hissing and spitting the whole way. I couldn’t believe Beau’s gall, though I probably should have, since I’d seen him at work before. I’d saved his life and he should have respected me enough to not only know that I wouldn’t be interested in some damn party but also that trying to bribe me by giving my license back illicitly wouldn’t have worked. I’m no saint, but trying to bribe me was just insulting. My mood only darkened when I went to turn into my driveway and found it blocked. After taking a moment to swear, slam my hands down on the steering wheel, and try to see around the van parked between my home and me, I relented and backed up. I’d only been parked on the street for maybe thirty seconds when I heard someone yell brusquely for my attention. I shut the car door, turning to look for the source of the voice and found myself watching curiously as a cop on a bike pedaled furiously closer. He was human, but built like a brick house, wide and strong, with calves of steel, dark shorts that showed off equally muscled thighs, and aviators that reflected my own confused face back at me once he was close enough. I was staring at him slack-jawed and stupid, but he had come out of fucking nowhere so I just shut my mouth and let myself be confused. “What’s the problem?” I asked as he halted the bike next to me, turning the wheel as if I might try to bolt and he needed it to hinder me from escaping. “You can’t park here.” “I can’t?” I asked with a snort, sure he was messing with me. “Why not?” “City ordinance dictates no street parking.” “What?” I demanded, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my modest chest. If he worked in this neighborhood he probably had nothing better to do than hassle scruffy-looking visitors. “City ordinance? I park on the street all the time.” Tipping his head so he could look derisively down at me over the tops of his

sunglasses—at night, for goddess’ sake—he lifted a brow. “I’m sure you do.” “Hey!” I said, my arms snapping to my sides, flame pushing to the very edges of my control, insisting I let it free to teach him a lesson for being such a jackass. I controlled it, though, having enough sense to know not to mess with a cop, regardless of how much he deserved it. “This neighborhood has specific rules, especially about the types of people allowed in. I suggest you move along and find some other street to park on.” “I live here!” I insisted, pointing at the house I couldn’t currently get to. “There, in case you were wondering.” “Is that so?” the cop asked, his lips pursing for a moment, before he reached for me as if I might need an escort inside. “Let’s just go up to the door and talk to the owner, shall we?” “Okay,” I agreed, weaving away so he couldn’t grab me. It wasn’t just because I didn’t want him touching me, but also because I was worried if he did I wouldn’t be able to stop my power from leaping out of me and onto him as it had done earlier. “You wanna carry the car, or should I?” His cheek jumped under his glasses and he took a moment before saying, “It’ll be fine on the street for the moment.” “You sure?” I snapped, before slipping between his tire and my car and striding purposefully toward the gate. I didn’t need my code for once, as Ansel had left it open, probably because the number of cars down the long driveway kept the van at the end from fitting all the way through. The cop followed closely, likely still sure I was going to give up my ruse, sob out an ittance that I was homeless trash, and scurry to my car to drive back into the Underground where I belonged. I’d show him. It took awhile to get to the end of the long driveway but I did my best to keep up the angry stomping all the way. It was worth it when we got there: the door opened as if by magic and my landlord looked my way with pleased surprise. Ansel, like the cop, was built like a brick wall, but he carries it less obnoxiously. That’s typical of werewolves, though. They’re all muscle, tall and broad, holding

their easy strength in smooth lines rather than lumpy bulges. Ansel’s damned good-looking, even among werewolves. Standing there framed in the doorway to his mansion, dressed in a soft sweater, expensive slacks, and coiffed to the nines, he looked spectacular. His blue eyes held my gaze for a moment, silence stretching between us, before he spoke. “Sophia!” His smile warped slightly. “Are you only just getting home?” “No, I’ve been here for awhile but this gentleman was hassling me.” “I wasn’t—” Stuttering, the cop stepped forward, holding out his hand to the man of the house with a reverence no one had ever shown me, regardless of the situation. “Sir, I was just explaining to this—to her that the neighborhood has a strict—she parked on the street, you see. I was just—” “Doing your job,” Ansel said. He was pleasant, easy, speaking without a trace of threat or anger but the cop shut up and waited as if Ansel might degenerate into a foul screed that would melt the shiny badge right off his chest. Ansel didn’t speak for a moment but, when he realized the cop seemed to be waiting for more, he shrugged and continued. “It’s fine, I understand. Will you overlook the issue for just a bit? Most of my guests will be leaving soon and I’ll make sure the car gets moved onto the grounds as soon as there’s room.” “Of course, sir. I under—that’s fine. Sorry to have bothered you.” “No bother.” Ansel grinned, before looking back at me. “Sorry about the state of things. I thought you’d gotten home awhile ago. I didn’t realize we’d be blocking you out.” “It’s cool,” I said, before eyeballing the cop and feeling a little dribble of pity leak in. I wondered if his pinched expression was from some weird fear of werewolves or just of rich people in general. I’d met only a few of both and, honestly, Ansel was the exception to the rule. Most probably would have taken his head off—or at least bared pearly white teeth and threatened to do so—if he’d let me and my ugly car foul up the neighborhood. I swallowed thickly, held out my hand, and figured I’d try to make up for my own bitchiness. “Sorry to … make you hassle me. I’ll find somewhere else to park next time.” “No, no worries. You can do—it’s fine. Have a good day. Both of you.” With one last deferential nod to Ansel, the cop hustled off. I took a deep breath,

wanting nothing more in that moment than to flee to my little shed and shut my brain down until I had no choice but to use it again. “Sophia!” I whirled away from watching the cop rush down the driveway and found a woman I barely knew greeting me like we were old friends. I guess that was warranted, though; she had taken care of my unconscious body and healed me of some pretty bad injuries just two weeks before. “Hey Loretta,” I said, hoping I was getting the name right. “How’re you?” “Excellent! But I really must go. Ansel, call me later and we’ll finish talking, yes?” “Of course,” he said, matching her cheek kiss with one of his own, and then watching her head out to meet the car that was waiting for her. I wondered how she would get out when I couldn’t get in, but didn’t ask. Rich people have ways, man. Gesturing back into the foyer, Ansel smiled at me. “Coming in?” “I actually just wanna get home. I had a shit day.” “You wanna talk about it?” “You’ve got a house full of people, don’t worry about it.” “They’re not going to be here much longer,” he assured me, dropping his arm when he realized I really wasn’t interested in coming in. “I was going to eat dinner once they’re gone. You should me.” “That’s okay, you don’t have—” “I’m not trying to take care of you,” Ansel assured me with a laugh. “Half the people who showed up brought twice as much food as I could eat. You should help.” “Well, when you put it that way,” I said. “Gimme an hour?” “Perfect.”

I didn’t even strip down or take off my shoes before falling haplessly onto my mattress and letting out a long groan of exhaustion and annoyance. What a damn day. I’d woken up early, determined to be in and out of Central before the crowds, but apparently everyone had been thinking that way. Or maybe most of those people were stuck there permanently, lost to the hell of long lines and unhelpful clerks. Maybe they’d all died years before and just hadn’t realized it yet. I moaned, rolled over to stare up at the ceiling, and considered my options. Not a one came to mind, no matter how hard I tried to generate them, and after another few minutes, I groaned again and draped my blanket over my face, hoping I could just permanently block out the world and not have to live in it anymore. Bounty hunting was all I was good at and, honestly, I wasn’t even that good. I had the basics down, hassling, hauling in, and killing vampires, but most of what I did was inherent, involving using my power to convince junkies to talk or vampires to not cross me. Plenty of other bounty hunters made more money, were better liked by the cops at Central, and earned more in commission than me. I probably could have boosted my own earnings if I could just get the chip off my shoulder and be a little nicer to people, but who has the time? “I guess me, now,” I said, muffled into the blanket. “I’ve got no job and nothing better to do.” Swearing, determined to quell my own self-pity, I sat up, took a deep breath, and decided I wanted a shower and a change. I hadn’t bothered cleaning up before heading into the station and I wasn’t going to subject Ansel to the smell of me if I could help it. He was a nice dude, having taken me in without really knowing what he was getting into, and I couldn’t have appreciated what he’d done more. So far I’d only managed to thank him by getting him attacked by vampires and nearly losing him to an evil corporation bent on world domination, but he’d decided to keep me around anyway. I was certain that, once he was back on his feet completely and really aware of what a pain in the ass I am, he’d kick me out, but for now things seemed good. They wouldn’t always be, though. That’s just how my life goes.

So, I’d need to shape up, find a place to live that I wouldn’t accidentally burn down—I snorted bitterly to myself and thought, again—and get my act together. That all, sadly, was going to require money, which was only going to come from a job. What sort of job, I didn’t know, but I was going to have to figure it out pretty soon.

I let myself in the back door, as Ansel had often told me I was free to do, and headed straight for the kitchen. It was a long walk across the great room, and my gaze had plenty of time to dart repeatedly to the urns displayed below Ansel’s family portrait, which only made my stomach hurt. He’d gotten a new, prettier final resting place for his baby sister, but only because my dumb ass had managed to get the old one broken. Yep, my time there was definitely going to run out soon. He’d changed as well, into loose sleep pants and a baggy shirt I’d seen him in during the first year I’d been living on the grounds. It surprised me some, since that whole period had involved him being stoned out of his mind, and he’d expressed interest in changing his ways. “Almost ready,” he said as I stepped into the kitchen and up to the edge of the massive island counter between the stove and me. The range was on, two burners, and he’d left the fridge open. The homey scene made me smile and, despite my misgivings about the future, I felt the pit in my stomach shrink a little. “No hurry,” I said, hoping he would politely ignore the horrendous and demanding growls from my gut. “Take a seat—oh, get a drink. I’ve got more wine than I know what to do with.” “Sure, thanks,” I said, though I felt awkward taking his booze. Werewolves were, with few exceptions, rich as hell and if his guests had been the ones to gift him wine, I was probably being offered a glass of something that cost more than my car. Though, my car had cost me more than I’d paid for it at that point, so I guess technically it was worth nothing and that wasn’t saying much. I picked one of the bottles off the counter at random, grabbed a couple glasses, and took it all over to the small kitchen table in the nook. It was too dark outside to see the forest beyond, but I’d seen the view before and knew how pretty it was.

“Did you get your license back?” Ansel asked, fiddling with the last of the food, before clicking off the stove dials. “No,” I spat, the reminder annoying me so much I took a quick swig off the bottle instead of pouring it like I’d meant. “Holy shit.” “What?” he asked, throwing me a worried look. “This is great,” I said, looking at the bottle as if I was confused about what I was holding. “This is wine?” “So they claimed.” “All the wine I’ve ever had tasted like feet.” Ansel barked out a laugh, serving up plates and letting me have my moment to ire the bottle—and take another swig—before pouring us both glasses. Within minutes we were seated across the table, both iring plates of food bigger than my head. Good god I was hungry and hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten. “What happened with your license?” Ansel asked, his timing poorer than my bank . I paused with a fork full of food at the edge of my lips, trying to decide between taking the first bite and answering him. I knew I wouldn’t have the self-control to stop eating once I started but that pit in my stomach was back and it wasn’t related to guilt this time. Clearing my throat, I set down the fork, smiled politely at him, and explained. “Their website is a mess, so it’s not even my fault. I thought I brought the paperwork I needed, but I was shuffled around from department to department, line to line, clerk to clerk, and finally just ended up nearly burning the place down.” “But it wasn’t your fault?” Ansel asked with a small smile tugging at his full lips. I scowled, tucked into the food out of spite, and managed to get six or seven bites down my gullet before I continued. “Okay that part was my fault. Maybe. Sort of. But not being able to get my damn license back isn’t. They have fifty-seven-hundred forms and no one knows which ones I really need to fill out. No, actually that’s not true. Beau knows.

Beau apparently can make it happen in a snap, but he’s being an asshole about it.” “Are you sure it’s not just—” “I’m sure,” I said, not even wanting to hear any possible argument for Beau to keep me from my livelihood. “Whatever. Let’s talk about something else.” I crammed in another few bites, realizing that I hadn’t actually been tasting the food before and that it was damned good. All the leftovers Ansel had given me had been good but this was on another level. “Who made this? It’s delicious.” “Not me this time, which likely explains the taste. Chef Léon, I believe. Loretta brought it over and they’re friends.” “Cool,” I said between bites, still not really slowing down enough to savor each distinct, delicate flavor, but enjoying myself nonetheless. “And no one else wanted to eat it?” “It wasn’t for anyone else, it was for me.” “Seems like a weird potluck.” “Oh.” Ansel chuckled. “It wasn’t that sort of party. It was—well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. Something’s come up and, if you’re willing, I’d like your help.” “Mine?” I asked sloppily, meeting his gaze. “What for?” Ansel took a deep breath, preparing himself for something that I was sure I wasn’t going to like. I sat back, swallowed, and did the same. Perhaps my time of reckoning had come earlier than anticipated. “My life up until now has been difficult,” he began, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I lost my family young, to vampires, and it sent me … down the wrong path. You’ve helped me see what I’m really supposed to be doing with my life—with my wealth, even, and I think it’s no coincidence that I got involved—however briefly—in what went on a few weeks ago. I think maybe it’s an arrow pointing me down the right path.” “Uh huh,” I grunted, lost, but wanting to be agreeable even though I was still

fairly certain I was about to be evicted. “So. Well.” He grinned, sitting up straight and offering a winning smile. “I’m going to run for Magistrate.”

3

“You’re … you?” I shook my head. “No, sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound like that. I just mean, uh.” What did I mean? “You’re not … a politician.” I thought of Beau. Now there was a damned politician. “No, I’m not.” Ansel laughed. “But honestly, that’s why I want to do this. That’s why the city needs me. I’ve seen all sides of it, the good and the bad. I’ve been in the Underground, spent … way too much time there. I can fix it.” “Oh no,” I shook my head, already knowing this was a bad idea. “You can’t. I don’t think anyone can. I’ve been down there too—while sober. Sorry.” “No, you’re right. I own what I’ve done, what I’ve been.” “Then—look. The Underground is a bigger mess than one man can clean up. It’s junkies and crumbling streets and sinkholes. It’s crime and drug dealers who think they can skirt the law by calling themselves—” “Businessmen. I know. That’s why I should be the one to clean it up. I’ve been part of it. I care.” He had a point, even if it was a stupid one. People had stopped caring about the Underground before I’d even been born. I couldn’t the last time anyone had seriously tried to fix any of the problems tucked into its dingy and poorly lit crevices. Plenty of politicians had promised to handle it but none had actually made any real moves. “Is that why all those people were here?” I asked, thinking back on the scene I’d come home to. “Were they—are you already campaigning?” “Not quite yet. Right now I’m just in the discussion phase, just talking to people who have done this before and know how to set me up.” “Loretta?”

“She’ll be one of my character witnesses, a healer who’s known me for years and can attest that I’ve cleaned up my act.” “I hate to break it to you, but she’s not really the dame who’s gonna appeal to the common man. Well.” I flashed on her high heels and classy legs. “Not in the way you want.” “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” “I don’t appeal to any man,” I said, only half-joking. A frown flitted across Ansel’s face but he didn’t say anything for a moment. After a bit, he swallowed thickly and pressed on. “You’re … well-known. You took down the corrupt head of Mezzeluna, rooted out proof that the Dark Crescent existed. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” “I was just trying to figure out who killed my friend,” I explained, uncomfortable with the credit he was trying to foist on me, feeling like I needed to let it be known I didn’t deserve it. “I got lucky, is all.” “You know that’s not true.” “It is!” Even though I wanted to finish my food, I also suddenly wanted to get back to my place, to hole up in the dark and start making the plans I needed to make in order to get back out on my own. “Look, uh. You do what you gotta do. I’ve gotta sort myself out. Thanks for dinner, but I’ve had a long day. I’m gonna turn in.” “Sophia,” he tried to argue, reaching out as if he might hold me there, but he didn’t touch me. “Please just—” “Trust me, Ansel. You’re better without me. Everyone is.”

My bed is just a mattress on the floor with a few blankets scattered about. I laid there, arm tucked under my head, staring at the dark ceiling, thinking about where my life was at that moment. I hadn’t miraculously come up with any better ideas for how I was going to get a job, get my own place, and keep myself afloat, but apparently that wasn’t my only problem now. Beau wanted me to dress up like an asshole and prance around some fancy party, and Ansel wanted to parade me in front of the common man to boost his image. Idiots, both of them. Sure, I’d had a hand in burning down a secret organization that had been killing people and trying to take over the city—if not the world—but that had been mostly in pursuit of trying to find my best friend’s killer. I wasn’t a good person who chased truth and justice. I didn’t lasso evil and pin it beneath my boot until the shiny-eyed sheriff could roll up and arrest it properly. I just set vampires on fire and mouthed off to cops. I wasn’t the person either of them thought I was and I knew one day, probably soon, they’d both realize the mistakes they’d made. Rolling onto my side, sighing out into the chilly air, I shut my eyes, trying to force myself to sink into oblivion.

I hadn’t set an alarm, but I got up early anyway. Wincing at the sunrise as it forced its way through my bedroom window, I found I was craving coffee the moment consciousness hit. I wasn’t sure I had any left, but if nothing else, I could probably scam a cup while out job hunting. My first stop was going to be diners, after all. How hard could it be to waitress? I dressed as nicely as I could manage, scowled at my reflection in my mirror, and headed out. I was surprised to find my car parked right outside, but probably shouldn’t have been. Ansel didn’t have scores of servants like the other rich werewolves in the neighborhood, but he had a guy who handled stuff. Apparently he’d handled my junk-heap, which I appreciated. It still needed gas, though, which I didn’t like. Figuring I’d make it where I needed to go, I drove off the property, studiously not looking at the house as I ed by. Ansel probably wouldn’t rush out and try to convince me to help him campaign again, but just in case, I didn’t want to encourage him. Big Plates was a shitty diner I’d been going to since I’d been young and I figured that maybe that familiarity might help me get a job there. I had nothing else going for me, but at least they could be certain I knew the place pretty well. I flagged down the waitress, an older woman who’d looked to be ninety since I’d been fifteen, and she waddled over reluctantly. “You’re in early,” she said, considering me, before frowning. “You look skinnier than usual.” “That’s why I’m here, actually. I can’t afford food and I need a job.” Gerty snorted out a gruff laugh and then jerked her head back toward the kitchen. “Lucky for you, Pete’s in early too. Though I think he just never left, judging by the smell of him. Come on back, honey.” We headed through the greasy kitchen, which smelled like heaven, through a narrow hall barely long enough to hold the two doors that faced off against each other. Through one I could see a tiny room barely big enough for the mini-fridge, two-seater table, and locker cabinet the width of the cop who’d hassled me. The other led to Pete’s office, which honestly wasn’t much bigger.

Gert was right; Pete smelled like he’d spent the night, if not a few more before that. “I know you,” he said, as if accusing me of something. “She’s here about a job, Pete. Be nice.” “What sorta job?” Pete asked, his tone shifting from insulting to offensive. I considered leaving for a moment, but figured I could take him if he tried anything I didn’t like. “I don’t have any experience, but I’d—” “What’re you—” Pete waved his arm at Gerty. “Get back to work.” “Sure, boss,” Gert said, her tone making me smile. She headed out, and Pete turned back to me, still looking ruffled and annoyed. “Look, we need a fry cook, just someone to flip eggs, basically. You ever flip an egg?” Without waiting for me to respond, he waggled his hand my way, even as he scooted his chair back a whole three inches to open a rusting file cabinet that fought him with every tug. “Goddamn sonofa—here. Fill these out, have ‘em back by this afternoon and you can start tonight. Carl will be in, he can teach you what you need to know. Good man, Carl. Got out early.” “Got out?” I asked, worried I knew exactly where Carl had been and what sort of grasp Pete had on the term “good man.” “Start tonight. What’s your name again? Lacey?” “Sophia,” I corrected. Pete just nodded, tapped the papers he’d handed me, and then waved spastically at the door again. “Go on. I got calls to make. Get out. Talk to Gerty. Get out.” Trying not to think about just how much I was going to regret this, I got the hell out.

Carl had absolutely been in prison but I wasn’t going to hold that against him. He didn’t seem like a bad dude, or at least not like an asshole. He was quiet, grunting more than speaking, but he was nicer to me than Pete had been, so I figured I could shut up and let him teach me how to fry an egg. We got to the stove, Carl handed me a dirty apron, and everything went to shit from there. Carl wasn’t good at the whole explaining side of training, what with not liking to speak and all, but I’d been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I figured I could watch him work and pick up on things from there. It seemed pretty simple, honestly: people came in, sat in wobbly chairs at chipped and scratched tables, ordered food, and we’d make it. It worked for awhile, with Carl lumbering through the cramped kitchen to the walk-in fridge, retrieving the foods we’d be required to cook. He cooked a few eggs, fried a few sausages, burnt a few hash browns, and I toasted the bread. Carl plated it all, grunted encouragingly, and before we knew it, four patrons were chowing down. Then he let me try. I cracked two eggs successfully, shook some patties off their paper backings onto the griddle, and felt pretty damn good about myself. Carl rewarded me with a few grunts, gestured vaguely off to the side, and then lumbered away. Figuring he was getting more food, I turned back to the griddle, poking at the sausages encouragingly. I figured they would probably be fine on their own, but it couldn’t hurt to nudge them a bit. I’d seen it done in movies. Probably. When Carl didn’t come right back and the sizzle on the eggs seemed lacking, though, I started to get worried. I lifted the edges, found them to be strangely gelatinous—like, more than usual, anyway—and gently lowered them. I looked around, found Carl nowhere in sight, and tried to flag down one of the prep guys. He twitched at me a few times but didn’t actually seem to understand what I was asking. Deciding this wasn’t an unsolvable problem, that I could handle something not cooking fast enough, after all, I held my hand over the egg. I sent a burst of flame out, figuring one good jolt would do it. The egg sizzled satisfactorily, I felt a jolt of pride as I ired my work, and then repeated the action over the other. Fire puffed out in a small cloud, crowded greedily around the egg, firming up the

white, solidifying the yolk, and making it all seem like things were finally coming up Sophia. Big Plates is not exactly a classy establishment. I’d known that going in, both as a teen interested in cheap eats and as an adult looking to earn some scratch. I’d never seen signs in the window stating you were risking your life eating there, but it was tucked into a particularly gnarly corner of the Underground and one couldn’t be sure the health inspector even made it out there on a regular basis. That lack in governmental oversight was probably why my flame was able to find a thick and juicy lump of congealed grease, grip onto it, and explode in a spectacular display of oily fireworks. Burning, liquid grease spattered the back of the grill, chewed through my apron, and hit the dish-washer who just happened to be shuffling by at that exact moment. He swore, dropped the bin of dirty dishes, and then screamed as the unwashed sleeve of his uniform went up just as quickly as my apron had. Nothing got cleaned in this place, as far as I could tell, and I asked myself, as I felt my power expand from a few small nuggets into a massive rave of angry heat and searing flame, why the fuck I’d though it would be a good idea to work in a commercial kitchen. I’d burned down the last one I’d been in, after all. The fire alarm managed to burp out one brief wail before short-circuiting, the dish-washer made it to the sink full of soapy water to put his arm out, and then everyone else realized that they were in real and true danger. People started fleeing, not a one of them giving two shits about the job they were supposed to be doing or the people out in the diner who might die. None of these people had anything to lose, it seemed, which—sadly—I understood on a cellular level. I watched them go at first, torn between standing my ground and itting I’d fucked up, and rushing out to avoid taking responsibility. I mean, I guess I hadn’t been the one to leave a grill so caked in grease that it had turned into a lake of flame once one damn fire elemental had gotten involved, but I still probably should have known better. In the end, I followed everyone to the kitchen door, made sure they were all rushing for the back exit, and then headed for the seating area. Everyone there had gotten the memo, even without a working fire alarm, and all I found was an

open front door and Pete. He looked pissed. “What did you do?” he demanded, rushing up, his gut flapping out from under his too-short shirt. “What did you do?” “I was cooking!” I insisted, even as he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the front door to follow the patrons out. I didn’t see a single employee at first, but then my gaze landed on Carl. He looked calm at least, leaning against the outside of the burning building, taking a drag off a cigarette and staring off into space. I wondered for a moment if Carl was deaf. “You have to get out of here!” Pete insisted, shoving me into the street. “I’m not going to set anything else on fire!” I said, astounded at his priorities. “Look, just—” “No!” he argued, rushing forward to shove me again. My temper sparked, embers leapt from my fingers to the ground, and I clenched my fists as Pete jolted back, still yelling. “I’m not insured to hire elementals! Get the fuck out of here before you get me fined!” Seriously? “Dude! You got bigger problems than a damn ticket!” “Just get out!” “Don’t you need, like, my statement or—” “Get!” “Fine!” I relented, backing up a few steps. The brigade were on their way, their rigs screaming loudly into the dark as people gathered to watch the smoke pouring out of the diner. Carl, still apparently unbothered, glanced at the open doors, stood up from his lean, and lumbered closer, taking one last drag, and then dropping the butt into the street. He had the decency to stomp it out, but I felt that was sort of a waste of effort at this point. “Go!” Pete insisted again, jumping spastically toward me. I jerked uncomfortably, frustrated with the whole affair, and then figured things couldn’t

get any worse. Leaning in as if the minuscule change in proximity might make me better heard over the commotion, I smiled encouragingly and spoke. “Do I at least get paid for time worked?”

4

Pete … politely declined my request for payment but I wasn’t gonna press. He didn’t need the insurance hassle and I didn’t need another mark on my record. We agreed to part on pleasant , Carl offered me a cigarette, and I went on my merry way. I’d wasted a whole day on a job I should have known I couldn’t do, and I felt damned stupid for doing so. The house was glittering and packed again, which shouldn’t have surprised me at the early hour of nine, but it felt so much later. I maneuvered past all the expensive cars, some with drivers inside looking bored or asleep, took the service road around the back of the house to my shack, and parked. Then, lacking the energy to do much at all, I just sat in the car, staring off into the darkness and feeling sorry for myself. Tomorrow would be a new day, I knew, but not so new that it wouldn’t be a bit of a repeat of the day before. I’d have to find a job, apply, hope to get hired, and —fingers crossed—not burn the place down. I needed options, a job that would make enough money to let me scrape by but not require skills. It ideally shouldn’t involve cooking or heat or, honestly, people. Maybe there was a farm I could work at. Animals and I are okay, most of the time. I pictured a barn full of dry hay going up and killing a dozen chickens, and groaned before I’d even realized what my brain was showing me. “Damnit,” I swore softly, pressing fingers to my eyeballs as if I could replace the nasty image of death with the liquid colors oozing behind my eyelids. The knock on the window was so soft it didn’t startle or surprise me, and I let myself sit for another moment before peering out at whomever had come to hassle me. Ansel grinned, waiting patiently, and I gave a little wave. “Security told me you were home,” he said as I climbed out of the car. “You have security now?”

“Just for the party. Some of the guests insisted.” “Another shindig already?” I asked. “Should I expect a lot of these now that you’re a rich, shiny politician?” “It was a last minute thing,” he assured me. “There won’t be many more, not here anyway. I will be having a few, but I didn’t really want a lot of them here.” “Why not?” I asked, mostly just making conversation. “It’s nice. You should show it off more.” “You know how I am about the house,” he said with a gentle shrug. I shrugged back, but it wasn’t really an agreement. “Plus, it’s not how this sort of thing goes, or so I’m told. You should come in, us.” I laughed, snorting. “No, sorry. I need to get some rest. It’s been another bad day.” “Is that why you smell like fried eggs and smoke?” “That’s just the scent I’m going for now,” I joked. “What do you think, is it working for me?” “It certainly sets you apart from everyone inside, that’s for sure.” “I’ll bet.” Ansel chuckled and gestured toward the house again. “You’re welcome, breakfast-scents or not.” “Nah, you got your rich friends in there, you don’t need me gumming up the works.” “Actually, I did need to talk to you about that,” Ansel said, shifting his footing slightly. “There’s another event coming up in a few days and … I was hoping you’d be my date.” “Your …" “Not date-date,” Ansel assured me, reaching out to touch my elbow briefly. “I

don’t know too many people, not too many people I can stand, anyway. You and I have fun, so I figured you’d make a good companion.” “Uh, thanks,” I said, not sure how to take that. I knew he was being genuine but, honestly, no one except Joey had really wanted to spend time with me and he was dead, so clearly I had a bad track record. Feeling liked was a strange sensation. “Yeah, I guess if you need … someone to go, I can do that. I don’t really have any, uh, clothes to wear.” “You’re fine,” he assured me, before wincing slightly and reconsidering. “Maybe not these exact clothes, since they have a bunch of holes in them, but anything you own is fine. It’s not a gala or anything.” “Okay, cool. I can do … not-a-gala.” “One more thing before I let you go,” Ansel said, leaning in close and reaching around me. I tensed up, thinking for a split second that he was going to kiss me, but he leaned back almost immediately, having taken a container off the roof of the car. I hadn’t even noticed it and I felt my brows jump when he pressed it into my hands. “Leftovers.” “I can’t—” “Too much food, ?” He smiled, taking a few steps back so I had no choice but to keep what he’d foisted upon me. “I’ve gotta get back. Get some rest. And, no offense, but take a shower. You smell like a diner that’s been set on fire.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

I ate the leftovers for breakfast, failing to save any for dinner, despite promising myself I would. Ansel hadn’t scrimped on what he’dchosen to hand off to me the night before, though, so I told myself as I stared mournfully at the empty container in the sink that I’d be good until tomorrow. Assuming I could find something to eat by then, anyway. I left early, heading straight back into the Underground. There was little chance I was going to be able to get a job Topside, and I knew enough junkies from my days as a bounty hunter that I could probably ask them for advice. I mean, they had to get money for drugs from somewhere, right? Realizing many of them were probably just going to suggest I sell my body to them for said drugs, I reconsidered that option as I pulled up alongside the curb. My car was almost as junky as the rest of the area and probably wouldn’t be bothered but I did stand there for a second, considering if I should bother locking it, and then decided it didn’t matter. If someone was going to break in to rifle around and look for something to steal (which they wouldn’t find) they’d probably break the window no matter what. I made it two blocks before I stumbled on an addict I knew all too well. Scratchy the Itch sat slumped at the corner, one leg stretched out across the sidewalk as if he was trying to trip people on purpose, while the rest of him was tucked around the side of the building. I kicked at his leg, stepped around to scold what I assumed would be any random junkie, and my onishment went from annoyed to surprised halfway through. “Hey, ass—hey, Itch. What’cha doing around here?” His fat head lolled, his one good eye considering me for a long second before the half of his mouth that could still smile pulled upward. “Yo, Sof—Son—You, what’s hanging?” “Nothing on me, how ‘bout you?” “I hang pretty good,” he said, before burbling out an awkward laugh and shifting his skinny ass on the pavement so he could better see me. I crouched down so I was closer to eye-level and considered the whole of him. It hadn’t been too long since we’d run into each other last, but he looked better somehow, as if the drug

that had permanently fucked up his head, swelling much of it to twice its size, had changed course. “Been hanging less lately, though, if you catch me. Got me a girl.” “Thought you eighty-sixed her for the bachelor life, Itch. Did she talk you into taking her back?” “How’d you know about Frida?” he asked, genuinely concerned, likely having forgotten we’d spoken, or thinking I’d been someone else. Itch has the worst memory of anyone I’d ever met, but his stupidity and confusion were endearing in a way. And sometimes his brain would scramble things up in just the right way and he’d along information more valuable than you could imagine. “Heard it on the street,” I said, before gesturing to his outstretched leg. “Should pull that in, pal. Might lose it.” “I know what I’m doing,” he insisted, though he left his leg stretched right out into the path of another addict shuffling down the sidewalk pushing a cart heavy enough to crush both Itch and me under its bulk. The tarp tied around the top and over the sides kept its contents hidden but I was guessing stolen electronics. Either busted or pristine, it mattered little in these parts. Some people just liked stuff, regardless of its condition. “Okay, pal I trust you,” I said, though I did reach out, pinch the cleanest part of Scratchy’s shoelace, and yank his leg in close. He didn’t notice, pressing on. “Frida’s old news, though, Sonny. She and I had a hard parting, but I hooked up with a real winner. She knows all the good goss, befriended all the good dealers. Wants to get me a business of my own. We’s in love.” “That’s beautiful, Scratch. What sorta business?” “We’ll work it out. She’s getting me cleaned up.” “Is she now?” I asked, silently considering the smell of him, but deciding it was best not to mention it. “What’s her name?” Scratchy considered me carefully for a bit, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal such a deep secret to the likes of me. I realized after a few seconds, though, that it wasn’t me he was considering, but his lady friend’s name. Certain

he couldn’t it, I changed the subject. “What sorta gossip’s on the street these days? You hear about that vampire business?” “With Gerry?” he asked, and I didn’t mention that I had no idea who Gerry was and hadn’t meant some random bloodsucker. He pressed on, though, and I let him, if only because he was entertaining. “Oh yeah, it’s all over the streets. No one thought we’d see him again, not after that roaster flamed his ass. But there he be, struttin’ through town lookin’ sharp. Been in hiding, you know? I would be too if I had that sour bitch on my ass.” “She sounds like a real asshole, for sure,” I said, shaking my head. Most of my kind had pretty bad tempers, and most vampires think we’re bad news. If what he was saying was true, it was pretty likely that some vamp had been spreading shit once he’d gotten on the bad side of a fire elemental. I was sure this sour bitch would’ve said some real rude things about Gerry, too, though. “She is! You can ask anyone. Everyone knows it. What’cha doing here, anyway, Sonia?” I let the name slide, knowing he’d never once gotten it right except when I’d just spoken it aloud directly to him. “Just looking for a job, pal. I’ve gotta make a living.” “I can hook you up,” Scratch said, suddenly as animated as he could be, hunching his awkward body forward to beckon me into his confidence. “Cup Off’s hiring. Their last guy got shivved by a customer, right there in the lobby for making the coffee wrong.” “How do you make coffee wrong?” I asked, perplexed by the idea. “Did he use seaweed instead of coffee beans?” Scratchy wheezed out a delighted laugh, nearly lost his balance, and quickly righted himself, before shaking his wobbly dome. “Nah, nah. He wanted it extra hot, they made it iced. So, there went the dude, down in a pool of his own blood. Now they’s lookin to replace him.” “Well shit,” I said, horrified by the image he was painting but figuring it could be worth it to see if any part of it was true. I knew Cup Off was a real t, at

the very least. “If they need someone to make extra hot joe, I’m the perfect woman.” “You are?” Scratch asked, genuinely lost. I just nodded, patted his shoulder, and pushed to my feet. “Say hey to your lady friend, Itch. I’ve gotta get job hunting.” “See you round, Sasha.”

I was a little thrown when I got to Cup Off and it was swarming with cops, but I considered as they waved me insid, that I shouldn’t have been. If they’d had some real nasty trouble recently, the cops could have been paying special attention to the little café just to make sure there wasn’t a repeat performance. “We’re not allowed to serve yet,” the woman at the counter said by way of greeting. I just nodded, gesturing behind me to the cops standing around chatting while their radios squawked quietly. “Because of all this?” “Some asshole had a seizure and blamed the coffee.” “Sounds cheery.” “It’s all bullshit,” she said with a sigh, before swallowing thickly in a way I recognized as the sign of a water elemental. Catherine was the only one I’d ever seen who had somehow managed to master the excess of saliva that came with having control over water. “But of course, Jimmy vaulted the counter and picked a fight with him anyway. Dumb son of a bitch got himself stabbed.” “Jimmy?” I asked, before shaking my head. “Wait, did this just happen?” “I mean, not moments ago, but yeah, basically.” “Shit,” I said, agog at Scratchy’s insight, if not his accuracy. “Does that mean you’re hiring?” The woman eyeballed me, taking a step back to consider what she saw. I looked pretty okay, I told myself, definitely at least as decent as anyone else who might wander in off the streets of the Underground begging for a job. If she was desperate—and from the look of the nearly empty lobby and missing employees, I was guessing she was—she could do worse. “You got experience?” she asked. I considered my words carefully for all of a millisecond before explaining, “I actually just left a food service job.”

“What happened?” she asked, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “The boss refused to pay me for my work.” I wasn’t quite lying. “Right. If you can make coffee, you’re hired.” “Don’t you want ID or paperwork or anything?” “Got both off Jimmy and look where that got him.” She shook her head dismissively and then moved along the small curve of counter to open the bar up and gesture me back behind. “Besides, if you fuck up, then paperwork means I have to do more paperwork. Let’s see if you can make coffee first.”

Maybe coffee was harder than I’d anticipated but not impossible. At home it was three steps: dump water and coffee grounds into machine, press Start. At Cup Off, there was grinding and pressing and twisting and, when some asshole wanted something sugary and ridiculous, pumping and frothing. I wasn’t into it, but it wasn’t impossible and having a water elemental there to make sure I didn’t accidentally set anything or anyone on fire was a comfort. Penelope wasn’t exactly a nice boss, but she didn’t take shit from the customers, didn’t give me shit I didn’t deserve, and left me to my own devices during downtime. Four hours into my first shift—still unofficial, since Jimmy’s mistake hung in the air—I felt like maybe I could actually do this for a living. It would surely be steadier than my hunting gig, at least. Pen didn’t have any other employees at the moment and she said she could guarantee she’d need me at least full time. So, I did my best to keep my temper under control when some jackass or junkie ordered something complicated, made coffee the way I was told, and hoped for the best. “So,” Pen said as a group of stupid, thrill-seeking teens carried their sugary, whipped-cream-laden calorie bombs to the front of the small café to gossip and excessively use the word, ‘fuck.’ “What’d you do to end up in here?” “Needed a job,” I said, leaning back against the counter, crossing my ankles. “Got a hot tip that you guys were hiring, so I came on over.” “Not here, here. In the Underground, out of a job at—what’re you, midtwenties? You’re pretty, skinny, you got that fancy-ass jacket. You don’t look like the usual type to show up at my door begging for money. You’re sober, for one.” I glanced at the duster hanging just inside the back room, considering how honest I wanted to be about my history. The jacket was expensive, for sure, not just because it was new and leather, but also because it was warded up the wazoo to keep it safe from my powers. Ansel had bought it for me, though, and I couldn’t have told Pen what it was worth, exactly, or why he’d been feeling so generous. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I shrugged and explained myself.

“I was a bounty hunter but I got one too many citations. I don’t have the money to get my license back—and can’t figure out what goddamned forms I need to do so anyway, so here I am.” “So you didn’t work in food service?” Pen asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “I mean, I did. It wasn’t exactly a tenured position, but I did … some time behind the stove.” She watched me, serious for awhile, and I got the distinct impression I’d done exactly the wrong thing in being truthful about my past. After a bit, I shifted my footing nervously, crossing my arms over my chest and jerking my chin at her. “What? Something on my face?” “Fire elemental?” she asked, her gaze sliding to the jacket again. I gave a shallow nod and she grinned. “You assholes can’t keep your shit together.” I probably should have been insulted but, honestly, she wasn’t wrong. I’d met a few of us who could keep temper in check and who made good money in various non-bounty-hunting positions, but they seemed to be few and far between. Water elementals drool and we get angry at the drop of a hat. Giving in, I laughed, shaking my head and lifting my arms as if in surrender. “Guilty.” Pen glanced back at the kids, sighed as if sick of their shit, and then gestured vaguely to the back room. “Gonna get off my feet for a bit. Keep an eye on these assholes.” “Will do,” I said, waiting to pull out my phone until she was hidden behind the closed door to the back room. I’d intended just to fiddle with it to kill time, but I found a voicemail waiting. Confused, unable to think of anyone who could be calling me, I hit play and put it to my ear. “Sophia, it’s Beau.” Refusing to listen to the rest, I slapped the delete button, crammed the phone back into my hip pack, and set my angry glare on the kids. They seemed to be

having a good time, which only soured my mood more. They had their whole damn lives ahead of them and they were too oblivious to know how dumb they were for hanging out in a place like this, especially since I was pretty sure they should have been in school. I smelled smoke around the same time they started packing up to leave.

5

For once, I knew the fire was not my fault. I should have felt it, though, well before it got to the point where I could smell it, but I was too distracted by my own angst over Beau being a dick. It was too late by then, though I probably couldn’t have done anything before that, either. Nothing someone else couldn’t do, anyway. I can control my own flame, but when it’s natural, or started by another fire elemental, my only options are extinguishers or giant buckets of water. I had neither. I grabbed the doorknob, found it scalding hot, and yanked my hand back more out of shock than real pain. I can handle some pretty high temperatures before I’m injured, and I knew the molten metal wouldn’t do me much damage. Figuring there was no need to risk it, I grabbed one of the bar towels lying around the counter and used that as a barrier. “Penelope!” I called into the small back room, hoping she’d managed to get out before things had gotten bad. I didn’t think she’d been gone for that long, honestly, but the whole back room had gone up. “Penelope!” She didn’t answer. She didn’t even cough or wail, and I couldn’t see through the smoke and dancing flame to know if she was even back there. I’d gone back twice during my brief employment to grab supplies but couldn’t for the life of me if there was a back room or if she was just trapped in the hell of the burning building. “Fuck!” I said, echoing the teens who had vacated just moments earlier. Dancing foot to foot, figuring I needed to at least make sure that my new boss wasn’t dead on the ground, I took a deep breath, held it to keep the smoke at bay, and rushed into the inferno. My clothes went up pretty quickly, licked at rudely by the flames, and I winced as I felt the foreign fire crawl along my skin like ants. I pushed through the pain,

knowing I’d be able to, if not avoid being burnt altogether, then at least heal faster than someone else in my position. I searched as well as I could and as fast as I could, but didn’t find Penelope, either dead or alive. What I did find, though, was a back door, unlocked but jammed shut. “Fuck!” I cried again, unable to keep my temper in check this time. Flame exploded out of me, warring with the fire that was already there, fighting it like rival weasels determined to win the chance to mate, and I stomped back toward the front of the café. The rest of the place was burning already, leaving just me alone in a coffee shop that was likely going to be a pile of ash before I even got to the front door. Things were going swimmingly. I was naked by the time I got outside, but my own flames were alive, clinging to my body and covering all indecency and—I hoped, at least—my identity. Already, there were hordes of people hanging out, watching the flames. I could hear the brigade screaming closer and I realized as I stood there being gawked at by strangers that my beautiful, enchanted, leather coat had been missing from the back room as well. “FUCK!”

I made it three blocks away—still on fire!—before I dared let my flames die down and my face be seen. Anyone who hadn’t already headed over to see the flames was in no shape to care, I reasoned, and I was certain I would be safe. For once, a burning building had not been my fault and I wasn’t about to be blamed for it. I dug through a cart tucked into an alleyway, looking for something that would cover my nudity and found only a raggedy pair of men’s shorts that was way too big, and a jacket that would be no substitution for my own. I managed to tie the shorts tight enough that they stayed on, pulled the ripped windbreaker over my naked top, and weaved through the city back toward my car. I could only hope it was where I’d left it that morning. If I didn’t have a ride back home I didn’t know what I was going to do. I couldn’t call Ansel, not after I’d lost the expensive gift he’d given me. I wouldn’t call Beau, especially not now that his people were probably looking for me. I was reasonably sure that Penelope had gotten out before the place went up—and how had that happened, anyway?—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still in massive trouble. Pete probably hadn’t given me up as the cause of the diner fire, and Pen hadn’t wanted any paper trail that I existed at all, but if there was even a chance someone had seen my face and it got back to Beau, he’d be pissed. Possibly even pissed enough to disinvite me to whatever fancy party he’d wanted me to attend, I realized, smirking slightly as I found my car in more or less the same shape I’d left it. I was digging my keys out of my hip pack—also enchanted, though much harder to lose, thank god—when I heard someone call from across the street. I wasn’t sure, at first, if they were calling for me, but the angry cry sounded just interesting enough that I lifted my gaze from the disorganized pack to see who had spoken. “You’re that bitch!” the young girl yelled, closing in on me awkwardly, stepping heedlessly into the street without making sure no one was barreling closer. I glanced around, not quite feeling singled out, before I realized she had meant me. “I’m that bitch?” I asked, shifting my stance in case she took a swing at me once

she got in close enough. When she reached the sidewalk, I could clearly see that she wasn’t just a random young addict, she was a vampire. Great. “You’re that bitch what tried to take out Gerry!” “Who?” I asked, before my brain seemed to stumble over the hump of memory that Scratch had left lying there earlier. “Gerry the vampire?” “Don’t you say his name, you bitch! You don’t got no right. Gerry’s a saint!” “Who the hell is Gerry?” I demanded, shaking my head, already fed up. This girl was high, so newly vamped that someone else might not have known she was a bloodsucker if not for the copper tang of synthetic blood on her breath. “Don’t you say his name!” She jolted forward, jamming her pale finger into my chest and nearly sent me sprawling. My temper, the day I’d had, and my general poor demeanor all sparked, sending power exploding out of my palms to char the cement as I caught myself on the sidewalk. Bouncing immediately back to my feet, channeling my rage from my hands up to my face so my eyes were glowing red and my hair was lifting in sparking, static waves, I stared her down. Older vamps generally aren’t impressed by my theatrics, but baby bloodsuckers usually go running at the first sign of demonic eyes. This asshole, though, just stepped forward again, trying to get into my space as if she really thought she could fight me. “You think you’re hot shit,” she snapped, trying to poke at me again. I stepped back, not only because my chest still stung where she’d hit me before, but also because vampires and fire should never meet accidentally. “You’re not!” “Thanks for the memo,” I growled, weaving as she tried to punch me, fighting every instinct to retaliate. I didn’t have my license anymore so, even if there was some chance this idiot had done something bad enough to deserve death, I couldn’t be responsible. Without a license and a clear, legal bounty, burning a vampire to death was straight up murder. She wasn’t threatening my life—at least not yet—so it wouldn’t even count as self-defense. Just my luck. “Would you back off, you crazy asshole?” “Scared a’me, huh?” she cried, before laughing like a lunatic, giving up on her attacks for just long enough to throw her arms up in triumph. “Yeah, you better

fucking run. Gerry’ll have your head, bitch!” “Good for Gerry!” I retaliated foolishly, looking around desperately for something I could use as a weapon if she came after me again. She really seemed convinced I was this bitch—this sour bitch, according to Scratch—who had wronged this Gerry dude. Maybe later, once I had my life together, I’d be able to track him down and see what was really going on. At that moment, though, wearing vomit-stained clothes that didn’t fit, running from the law, I just didn’t give two shits. Luckily, crazy baby vamp changed her mind about attacking me. She lowered her arms, still laughing hysterically, her brown eyes crazed, slammed her palms into her chest twice like a gorilla, and then turned to stalk away. We’d drawn a small crowd of other addicts and hobos, though none of them seemed too invested. They looked curious but only as far as one might be in a fight between two birds vying for the same piece of bread. Once it was clear we weren’t going to come to blows, everyone moved along. “Good goddess,” I growled, closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and quelling my power enough that I knew I could get into my car without blowing myself up. I needed to get home, to shower and—damnit—to figure out where to look for a job next.

Ansel had snuck into my place and left me more food, which I wanted to be annoyed about. I didn’t have the energy, though, both because of the power I’d expended running around a burning building and because, emotionally, I was spent. Once again, I had too many problems to even think about, and my brain wanted to shut down rather than try to solve a single one. I waited until the middle of the night to haul the disgusting clothes I’d stolen out to the trash, not wanting to run into Ansel. I knew he wouldn’t be mad about my expensive coat going missing, but I still couldn’t face him. Maybe I’d get lucky and the next job would work out. Maybe I could discreetly replace the thing and he’d never know. “Maybe I’m secretly a princess and my prince will come rescue me from this tower of shit,” I grumbled, shutting the lid on the trashcan and spinning to head back up the long drive. “You’re looking for someone to sweep you off your feet, are you?” I jolted, yelped, and spun around to face the threat with flaming hands before I realized it was Beau. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I breathed, trying to get my power under control. He smiled at me from the other side of the gate, close but not touching. I wondered for a split second why he hadn’t just jumped over, and then ed that Ansel had no shortage of vampire alarms and security that would have alerted him to Beau’s presence on the grounds. “I came to speak to you,” he said. “Care to let me in?” “No,” I snapped, squeezing my fire back into my skin. “Did you even listen to my message?” “I’ve been busy,” I said, closing in to glare at him from the other side of the gate, not totally sure how well Ansel could hear us from all the way up the drive and inside the house, but not wanting to wake him up. He hated Beau less than other vampires, but he still didn’t like him.

“So I’ve heard,” Beau sighed. “You’ve burned down two buildings in two days, Sophia.” “What?!” I demanded, my outrage springing mainly from embarrassment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I haven’t—I’m just job hunting!” Beau watched me seriously for a moment before his gaze slid behind me toward the house. I watched him for a second, dimly lit under the security lights, and then turned to see what had caught his attention. The house lights had gone on, and I was betting Ansel knew we had company. The security he’d gotten for his fancy party had probably ratted me out. “Shit,” I said, shaking my head. “Just get out, okay? I’m in enough trouble without you being here.” “So you it—” “Nothing,” I snapped, shaking my head. “I’m just in trouble, okay? I’m out of work and having no luck finding a job, that’s it. My only skill doesn’t really apply.” “I offered to help you with that,” he said gently, his expression softening. I felt my flame threaten to rise again as he continued. It wasn’t just annoyance, but the general ion Beau inspires in me. It’s a strange mix of frustration, hatred, and —fine, yes—attraction. “I still can, in fact. You should let me. I’ve been— forgive the phrasing—putting out fires all over the place. You’re lucky I’m in the position I’m in, don’t you think?” “Beau?” Ansel asked, closing in on us. I dropped my gaze to the ground, both out of shame and because it felt somehow wrong to be iring Beau’s beautiful face while his soon-to-be political rival was closing in to undoubtedly save me from his dastardly deeds. Not that I needed saving, but Ansel seems to be a savior at heart and boy howdy would he try anyway. “Ansel,” Beau said with a smile. “I was just having a chat with Sophia.” “At two in the morning?” Ansel asked, before chuckling softly. “No, I guess that makes perfect sense for you. Is everything alright?”

My gaze darted to Beau’s, fear that he might reveal my misdeeds thrumming through my chest. I knew both men, with their supernatural senses, were aware of my sudden nerves, but I hoped both would be tactful enough not to mention it. Beau held my gaze for a moment, his face a mask of pleasantness, before he grinned wider and looked back to Ansel. “Not at all. She’s just been too busy to take my calls and I had some things to talk to her about.” “Her license?” Ansel asked? “She mentioned she was—” “Okay,” I snapped, throwing up my arms in frustration. “That’s enough of you two. My license, my problem, my life. No more discussing me like I’m not here. If you want something to chat about, how about you two talk about how you’re both running for Magistrate, hunh?” That shut them up. Silence stretched for a bit before Ansel smiled, lifting his hands in a delicate shrug. “I guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” “Well,” Beau said, nodding once. “There’s no better werewolf, I have to say.” “Thanks,” Ansel said, noticeably not returning the compliment. “It’s not official yet, but we’re in the process. Just gotta get the paperwork in and then we start the official campaigning.” “Ah, no easy feat,” Beau said, grinning in a way that showed off his impressive fangs. I rolled my eyes, recognizing the signs of male posturing. “Hopefully you’re up for such an arduous task. Having just recovered from drug dependency and all.” “Have fun,” I said, taking a step back. “I have to get some sleep.” “Sophia, we didn’t—” Beau began. I nodded, waving once with a clipped jerk of my wrist. “No, we didn’t.” Spinning on my heel, I headed back toward my shack, hoping to god they’d just

keep sniping at each other and not discuss me for even a sentence longer.

I slept until four the next day, not having much motivation to get up and do anything. I knew I needed to find a job but depression was starting to sink in and the actual drive to do so had suffered because of it. My life had been turned upside down in less than a month and I hadn’t really stopped to deal with it in any meaningful way. Up until my best friend had been killed by the lunatic owners of a massive pharmaceutical corporation, I’d had a simple life. Not simple as in easy, but simple. Basic, not overly complicated. I’d claim a bounty, hunt it down, turn in the proof or the vampire itself, collect my measly check, and watch for another. I kept my expenses as low as possible, slunk around the Underground keeping up with the gossip that could help me do my job better, and occasionally hung out with Joey when our busy schedules lined up. I never dated, I didn’t really have other friends, and I wasn’t the type to go out drinking or gambling or whatever it was the cool people with money and time on their hands did for fun. Now I had nothing but time on my hands, no money, and was probably going to be evicted by the end of the week. Not only would Ansel get sick of my shit, but all the people he was going to have in his ear advising him on how to become Magistrate would most likely see me for the leech I was and advise him to eighty-six me. What I’d do then, I had no idea. His was the only place I’d felt safe living since childhood. It was the only place I hadn’t accidentally burned down since losing my parents. “Maybe I really do need anger management classes,” I muttered into the fridge as I eyeballed the small stack of leftovers Ansel had snuck in. I didn’t blame him exactly, and could appreciate the gesture for how nice it was. Guilt was going to eat me alive if he kept doing nice things for me, though. I didn’t deserve everything he was handing me, all the nice deeds he was doing for me. I’d been nothing but trouble. Plus, his taking care of me made me feel pathetic. I mean, I am but having his constant reminders of my inability to properly care for myself only reinforced the feeling.

“Right,” I said, standing straight and slamming the fridge without getting out anything to eat. “Desperate times, desperate measures.”

6

I’d met Quinn Wulfric shortly after starting as a bounty hunter and that asshole owed me. Vampires and werewolves don’t like each other. I’d never exactly found the source of their revulsion for each other, but it sat somewhere around the level of racism, where each considered the other to be lesser-than. Werewolves generally consider vampires to be upstart parasites who like to play at being wealthy gentry; vampires consider werewolves to be snooty, selfish assholes. Honestly, neither side is entirely wrong. The division isn’t universal and it seemed like maybe it was getting better, but that was a hard sell, considering the long lives of vampires. If you hated werewolves two hundred years ago, you probably weren’t going to change as you got older and more set in your ways. Younger werewolves seemed to start out with less hatred of their snooty, supernatural counterparts but you can only be called hideous names and looked down upon so many times before you start to develop a hatred for the ones doing the mud-slinging. There were exceptions, like Ansel and Beau, who didn’t exactly hate each other, but who clearly both carried grudges and held tightly onto stereotypes. But, usually if you met one side they were going to have nasty things to say about the other. So, when I’d run across Quinn, the eldest son of one of the richest and snootiest werewolf families, in a vampire brothel, he’d offered me nothing short of the moon to keep his secret. I had told him to fuck off at first, concerned only for grabbing my bounty, cuffing the dumb son of a bitch, and hauling his fanged ass back to Central. Then Quinn had gotten in my way, sniveling and making excuses, drunkenly holding me back from my job, and it had been all I could do not to set him on fire. It had been years and I wasn’t even certain he’d me, but I knew his secret and I could run to his rich mommy and tell her where her dumb sixteen-year-old son had spent his youth and, if necessary, I’d remind him of exactly what he’d

promised me. Carnelian Moon was part gambling hall and part gentleman’s club, but both parts added up to a very tacky whole. I crossed the street toward neon lights, a logo that was unmistakably supposed to allude to a woman’s ass, and bouncers who weren’t werewolves but who wanted to be just as intimidating. Pausing at the curb, groaning out a sigh, I asked myself once more if I had any other options. Nope. “Here to see Quinn,” I said to bouncer number one. He was a beefy sort, with a too-skinny mustache and an ill-fitting suit that made him look fat rather than— what I assumed he was going for—muscular. He aimed the hairy eyeball at me for a moment, before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.” “That’s too bad,” I said, considering his demeanor, wondering for a moment if maybe he was an earth elemental. They’re usually stronger as a given but often a little slow. This guy seemed a little slow. “Because I need to see him and I’m certain that if you don’t let me through, he’s not going to be too happy.” “Working girls don't enter through here,” his partner said dismissively, before sizing me up and finding what he discovered problematic. “Not sure how you got hired, though.” “Yeah, it’s a real mystery,” I agreed, realizing I didn’t need to deal with these idiots at all, not if I could just prance in through the back and pretend like I was there to take my clothes off. “Where’s the entrance for the fairer sex?” “We’re not that kind of club,” bouncer number one said, before throwing a wink and a smile to his partner. “Not officially, anyway.” They shared a laugh; I sighed and gave up. No one questioned me or tried to stop me as I circled around the back, looking for a sign that said, “Ladies Only” or maybe another neon sign just shaped like a pair of tits with an arrow beneath. I found nothing that obvious, but luckily one of the girls was outside having a smoke so I was able to ask her. She just gestured to a barely visible door set flat into the wall, and went back to her phone.

“Thanks,” I said, hoping she got the snark I was trying so intently to infuse into my tone, and then banged on the door a few times. It opened easily, the man inside didn’t give me a second look, and I wished everything in my life could go this smoothly. Smacking something and having it work exactly as I needed it would have been a much handier skill than accidentally setting fire to everything good in my life. Carnelian Moon was as tacky inside as I’d figured, with draping fabrics in varying shades of orange and red, plump cushions shaped like parts of women— lips, breasts, butts, parts that shall not be named—and velvet. So much velvet. It took me awhile to find Quinn but no one bothered me as I prowled through the place in my ratty jeans and torn t-shirt, with my ugly hip pack and haphazardly knotted hair. I wondered, as I made it out into the cacophony of the gambling hall what the point of the bouncers even was, but all questions stopped when I spotted Quinn. He’d aged well, though not really gotten more attractive. I’d seen him in the news here and there, as you do with billionaire, playboy werewolves who run popular clubs, but he looked, uh, better in person. Not that better was better. His red hair was slicked back, his matching stubble seemed curated rather than casual, and his suit was a purple that reminded me painfully of some of the bruises I’d gotten in my years hunting bloodsuckers. I stalked right toward him, ignoring the shuffling bodies of writhing dancers, the screaming of excited and depressed gamblers, and the women jiggling exotically up on stage. The lights strobed, the music boomed, and I realized as I ed by the third dining table that this fucking place seemed to serve nothing but rare steak and red wine. I really hoped Quinn gave me a reason to punch his lights out. “Hey,” I called as I stepped brazenly over the red velvet rope that somehow kept out the riffraff of the rest of the club. “Asshole, me?” Quinn didn’t look over from his conversation with three scantily clad blondes, but his equally tacky werewolf pal noticed me closing in and had the sense—or sobriety—to look mildly concerned. “New girl?” he yelled to Quinn over the music. Quinn took a moment to finish his sentence, enjoy the polite—but so obviously fake—laughter of the women,

and then turned to see me. I stopped within grabbing distance, wanting to be close so I wouldn’t have to scream quite so loud anymore, and jerked a thumb back the way I’d come. “Let’s go somewhere quiet to talk.” Quinn’s brown eyes swam with confusion for a bit before his entire face warped in horror. He recognized me, all right. “Shit! How’d you—I mean, what’re you—I mean—” “I don’t give a shit what you mean. Your office. Now.”

Quinn didn’t hesitate or argue and no one tried to stop us as he hustled me back through the club. His office turned out to be occupied by his brother and one of the dancers, so he took me upstairs to the security room, where he abruptly ordered the men there to scram. He slammed the door shut before turning to face me, white as a sheet. I just grinned, feeling more myself than I had in awhile. “Hey Quinn. How’s tricks?” “She’s …” He looked baffled. “Good. You know Trixie?” “What?” “Trixie?” “Who?” I realized what had happened and clenched my teeth, growling in annoyance. “You moron.” “What—How—Okay.” We watched each other for an infuriating second before he blurted out, “How much do you want?” “I don’t want money,” I said, shaking my head. “I want a job.” “You don’t want money?” he asked, flabbergasted. “I heard you lost your job.” “How did you—never mind.” I shook off that question, figuring it couldn’t have an answer I would like. Gossip about me had apparently flapped odorously in the wind for a week after Beau and I had taken down Mezzeluna, but I was sure everyone who’d heard it had forgotten me once the next big news story had broken. “I need a job. I lost my hunting license and I can’t earn a living. You run a bunch of places, so I figure you’ve got to have a bunch of jobs open. Gimme one. Something I won’t hate.” “Uh.” Quinn’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment as he tried to come up with a response. I couldn’t blame him. He’d seen me at my worst, on fire and pissed after he’d lost me my bounty. I wouldn’t want to hire me either. “Okay. Uh. But wouldn’t you rather have money? I could just give you—what do you think, ten million?”

“Holy shit,” I said, blown away by not just the amount but the casual way he’d tossed it out. I knew his family was wealthy, but if ten million was pay-off, chump change, they were richer than I thought. I wondered for a moment if Ansel was in the same boat—or even slightly smaller, adjacent boat—and if maybe I had less to worry about. If he was floating through life with that sort of scratch, he probably didn’t give a damn if I accidentally burned his place down or cost him the Magistrate election. He could just buy six more. Of each, maybe. There were other cities, other Magistrate positions. Surely one of them was open to bribery. But Ansel wasn’t, I knew. Which was why I needed to earn my own way— legitimately, not with the dirty money of some stupid werewolf who made his fortune on tits and ass and red meat. “No, I need a gig. I want to make money. What sort of thing you got, huh? I can make coffee. I learned how to fry an egg. I’m—you need a bouncer? I could bounce.” Quinn watched me, concerned, and I recognized the look as clear as day. I’d seen it from plenty of people over the years, all of whom had been questioning my sanity. He took a long time to think, probably running through all the ways I could destroy what his family had built for him before his concerned and unhappy expression opened up into one of thoughtful surprise. “You know, I think I got something you could do.” “Perfect, what is it? What do you need? Bouncer? Manager? ant?” I threw that last one in just as a joke and we both laughed a bit before he waved one hand and then lifted both, palms out. My joke had made him comfortable, at least. “Cigarette girl.” “Come again?” “Cigarette girl!” Bouncing foot to foot, excited, as if he’d just cured cancer, he gestured wildly to my hands. “You can light them and everything!” “I’m not prancing around in a thong, selling—selling …”

The TV was on at the back of the security office, the sound muted, the cable tuned to news. The sight of a familiar woman standing in an unflattering pool of light, out in front of an Underground shack, pulled my attention, kindling my temper before I even knew what was being said. “What’s—where’s the—turn that up.” I pushed past Quinn, jumping toward the TV in an attempt to slap at the volume buttons I could see running up the side. I wasn’t quite tall enough to hit what I was aiming for, but on my third hop, the volume went up anyway and I could hear Penelope’s voice. “—the danger you face when you own a business in the Underground, you know? Junkies, addicts, criminals, fire elementals, all in and out of your business.” “You’d just had an incident earlier that day, correct?” the reporter asked, holding the mic to her mouth. She swallowed thickly, nodding eagerly as if she couldn’t wait to explain. “Yes. That’s why I was alone, actually. My only employee had gotten assaulted by a customer. I was so busy, so tired. I just didn’t have it in me to deal with it when the woman came in demanding coffee. She got so mad so fast, as they do —you know roasters—and the next thing I knew, I was trying to put out the inferno, but she was so powerful. I couldn’t—I just didn’t have the magic to combat what she did. Thank the goddess I have good insurance to reimburse me for everything she did, for what she destroyed. It’s my livelihood, my business. It’s almost a second home..” “What the shit?” I screeched, realizing what had really gone on at Cup Off. My arms went up in flame, my shirt charred to ash in an instant. Quinn yelped, stumbling back into an office chair, bouncing off, and hitting the ground in terror. My pants went up, leaving me naked and aflame, and I twisted to pace three steps back and forth, knowing I had to contain my rage and insult, but unable to in that moment. “That bitch! Blaming me! She—she set that fire and blamed me!” “Sophia!” Quinn coughed, gesturing wildly above my head. “The—” The sprinklers went off, cutting off his warning and doing their level best to drench me. My flame is stubborn, though, and it was unbothered by the plain, pedestrian tap water flowing through, drenching the entire security office. I

whirled around, taking one last look at the screen, trying to get a visual cue from the darkened background as to where I could find Penelope so that I could give her a piece of my mind—and maybe of my fist. Not one second into searching, I realized she was wearing my coat.

I went home in Quinn’s ugly suit jacket, covered completely by the length and width of it. I’d managed to put myself out before I had to be knocked unconscious or something, but the security office was a loss. I hadn’t charred anything except my clothes, but the sprinklers had ruined the electronics. Despite my display, Quinn kept up his end of the bargain, giving me the address of the t that needed a cigarette girl and telling me to report there the next day. I was certain he’d offered me the job out of fear rather than obligation, but the end result was the same, so I wasn’t going to bitch. The house was quiet and dark when I got home, which I took to mean Ansel was out, rather than in bed. I was exhausted, more so than I had been the previous day, and I was going to have to get up early the next morning. The only reason I ate any of the leftovers Ansel had left me—which had doubled since I’d left that evening, thanks to that the stupid, sweet asshole—was that my stomach felt cavernous. I didn’t really taste what I was eating, but still woke up the next morning craving more, so it must have been good. I wanted to start the day out hunting down Penelope, to force her to come clean about what had really gone on in her shitty coffee shop but I needed a job more than I needed revenge. I told myself I’d track her down later, climbed into my car, and took off, grumbling the whole way. So riled up was I, that it took me half the trip to my new job to realize my gas tank had gone from empty the night before to completely full that morning. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to punch Ansel or kiss him full on his beautiful mouth. Shoving aside both those possibilities, since neither would do me any good, I found parking in the nice neighborhood I’d never ventured into before, and climbed out. Small pockets of the Underground are well-maintained, but they’re all filled with the rich and powerful. I’d never had reason to go hunting up anyone whose pinky ring was worth more than my entire wardrobe, so I’d never had reason to visit. It was a nice neighborhood, all things considered, looking similar to the ritzier areas of the Topside but, of course, tucked neatly into a false midnight lit by expensive street lamps and patrolled by bike cops similar to the one who’d hassled me.

I brought Quinn’s coat with me to the club, pleased to find that it was one of the few that utilized the positives of the Underground, rather than reveling in the negatives. The street lamps outside looked different than the others, older, even though they were in impeccable shape. Quinn’s family had used the look of evening and the lighting to cast shadows as if they were part of the décor, using darkness as skillfully as one might an expensive rug or a billion-dollar piece of art. The bouncers here were women, dressed to the nines in noir garb, their hair perfectly styled, their lips busied with smoking cigarettes. I was betting they didn’t see much action. They looked too put-together, even for such an early hour. Maybe working at Howling wouldn’t be the nightmare I’d assumed it would be while standing inside the plague of velvet and silk that had been Carnelian Moon. “Sophia?” one of them asked as I closed in. I considered her, wondered if she really looked familiar or if my mind was just jumping to conclusions based on her awareness of me. “Yeah?” I said, pausing at the doorway, Quinn’s massive jacket draped over my arm. “Franny,” she said, dropping the cigarette and crushing it with her fat-heeled shoe. “From Evermore? Been a long time.” There was a pause, a quick beat where my brain sat quiet and perplexed, before memories exploded behind my eyes, realization of what she meant and who she was hitting me. “Ah, shit, Fran. It has been a long time.” “You meeting someone?” she asked, pulling another cigarette out of the pack tucked on the brick ledge next to her. She picked up her lighter, snorted out a small laugh, and then held the stick out to me. “Do the honors?” “S’why I’m here. I’m your new cigarette girl,” I said, touching the end just long enough to light it. She shook her head, but took a drag before speaking. I realized as she blew the smoke out, that it smelled of nothing and the smoke seemed paler than I was used to.

“Next time, show off the skills,” she said, shifting her stance to tuck her left hand under her right elbow, as if she needed help keeping the cig propped near her mouth. Franny had always been a bit nervous, as general rule. “These rich assholes love a good show.” “How you been?” I asked, still in shock over finding a fellow elemental orphan out and about in the world, slumming it in the Underground. Most ended up like Catherine, smart enough to use their power to get ahead. Not many ended up like me, not if they weren’t fire, anyway. “So-so,” she said, jerking her head back at the doorway. “Work here days, when it’s not too busy. Gets boring, but whatever. It’s good money, especially in tips.” “Glad to hear it,” I said, before gesturing forward. “I’m technically already late, but we’ll catch up later, yeah?” “Sure, sure,” she agreed, though I was betting we’d both forget. I had other shit on my mind and air elementals just tend to be flaky and forgetful. I gave a cursory smile and nod to the other bouncer, slipped inside, and stopped dead at the door. “Holy … shit.” The lighting was dim, the leather plentiful, the bar the length of an Olympic swimming pool, and I felt like I’d stepped back decades in time. The stage was dressed in gold and glass, the chandeliers glittered dramatically, and I worried for a hot second that I really was going to have to wear a short skirt and prance about in heels. The werewolf who approached from the back room, though, was dressed sensibly, if wildly behind the times in of fashion. Her hair was short and curled in big loops, her pants high-waisted and flowing down mile-long legs to cover heels that clicked loudly through the room. She spotted me, smiled warmly, and closed in. “You’re Sophia?” “I am.” “Lina,” she said in introduction, though she didn’t offer her hand.

I shoved Quinn’s jacket at her, as if I felt guilty for having it. “This belongs to the boss.” “Technically I’m the boss,” she said, a sigh in her voice. “Not that Quinn understands how any of this works. Come with me.” We weaved through tables, past the seating for a full band and the stage, and into a hall that seemed to be hidden, as if the t might get raided at any moment and the patrons and employees would need to smuggle themselves out through secret tunnels. Just slipping through the doorway gave me a giddy thrill of guilt, like I was doing something wrong. I could only assume whomever had designed Carnelian had nothing to do with this place. “We’ll get you fitted for wardrobe, have you fill out some paperwork, and then we’ll get you in with the other ciggies so they can show you the ropes.” “Wardrobe?” I asked, nerves at the idea of skimpy, ass-cheek-baring body suits crawling through my skin again. “Quinn promised I wouldn’t have to wear anything too revealing.” “You’ll have your pick,” she said, not bothering to look back at me as we moved through the labyrinthine halls. “Some ciggies like to get real dolled up and dressed down, others like more clothes and fewer tips.” “That hardly seems fair,” I said without thinking. She didn’t respond, but she did smirk. Without another word, she knocked once on a door marked WARDROBE, pushed it open, and gestured me inside.

7

I was barely appalled by my uniform at all. The pants were flowy and comfortable, the shirt button-up and sensible, and they managed to get my rat’s nest of hair tamed and styled. They didn’t make me change my shoes—the pants covered the out-of-style combat boots—and I spent the three hours of training at ease, if unhappy with the fact that they made me wear makeup. It made me look pretty good, though, I had to it. Wearing it was going to take some getting used to; I kept twitching and touching my face, like I had something stuck there, before ing that I’d let someone do this to me. There were three of us working that afternoon, two of us women, but I was the only elemental. The other woman had gone for the tip-worthy outfit, showing off assets I didn’t have, laughing raucously at every opportunity, and flirting easily with the few patrons who showed up right after opening. I liked her, if only because she seemed to like everyone, including me. “You doing all right, hun?” she asked on our third encounter as we wandered the room. The band was filing out, though I’d been told they wouldn’t be playing until closer to the end of my first shift, when things would really fill up. “Yeah, I just feel sorta useless.” “Why’s that?” she asked, before winking and throwing a wave to two werewolves who had just entered. Everyone—absolutely everyone—had shown up in period clothes, swaggering in like they were playing a part and had committed one-hundred percent. I wondered if this sort of shit was what werewolves all did with their free time. “No one’s buying anything.” “That’ll change as the night goes on,” Torrance assured me, patting my shoulder gently, before leaning in. “Once they start drinking more.”

“Everyone decides to up and get cancer once they’re shitfaced, huh?” “Oh these aren’t real,” she said, her face opening up with full and eager surprise. “They didn’t tell you? Only legit thing in this place is the liquor, honey. Everything else is just for show.” Sticking her chest out and giving a little jiggle, she added, “Even these.” I snorted out a laugh, figuring for about the third time since I’d officially started that I was probably going to like this place. It wasn’t what I was used to, and it would definitely involve being a lot nicer than I usually am, but the coworkers were decent, the place wasn’t a dump, and I didn’t have to do much except swipe credit cards, hand out cigarettes, and occasionally light shit on fire. Just small shit like cigarettes and, according to the eager bartender, a cocktail or two, but still. At least I was going to get to use my skills for something. I was an hour out from the end of my evening when things started hopping and the three of us got busy doling out fake smokes. Robby—who seemed to have learned a thing or two from Torrance and flirted with all the clientele, regardless of gender—hustled up to me as I hit the back of the club and I worried for a second that I’d done something wrong. “Hey, got a call, could you just cover for me for a second?” “Cover?” I asked. He nodded, stacked half his supply on my tray, and then rushed off without explaining further. Feeling a little lost, I sighed, shuffled what I had around so it wouldn’t topple right onto the floor, and then looked up at the sound of someone calling. “Here, here!” I found a large, bearded, twenty-something werewolf in full garb waving me down, an empty cigarette holder held in his non-waving hand. Hustling over, I grinned at each of the people at the table in turn, turning on the charm to the best of my ability. “You fellas need a light?” I asked. They all cheered, each of them already a few sheets to the wind, judging by the empty glasses littering the large table. Thinking back on what Franny had suggested before I’d even started, I lifted my hand, waited until I had the gin-soaked attention of every one of them, and snapped, letting sparks fly. “Because I’m your girl.”

Robby never did come back, but my last hour went better with him gone. I couldn’t bring myself to flirt but it seemed my fire was more of an asset than my body anyway. Drunk or sober, the werewolves all loved the little show I put on at each table, a few of them calling me back around before they’d even finished half a pack. My back pocket was bulging with tips as my shift was coming to a close, which was the only reason I made the mistake of giving my time to the table that ended up getting me fired. Unlike the rest of the club, these snooty assholes were seated separately, up on a platform partway behind heavy curtains, though still with full view of the band as it started to play. Torrance encouraged me to take the table, even though they’d specifically called for her, and I went over feeling sassy and sure of myself, thinking this lot looked like even bigger tippers than the others. They were older, wizened, I thought, and probably had more money than the younger generation that sat down on the floor. “How’s it going?” I asked, gesturing to my nearly empty tray. “It’s been a busy night. You’d better buy now before we run out of supply completely.” “You’re new,” one of the women said, smiling over at me as she slipped a cigarette holder out of an expensive-looking, beaded purse. She was covered in diamonds, sparkling not only because of the way the light caught her jewels, but also because the silk dress she wore was white as the full moon, clinging to her spectacular cleavage like it had been glued. “I am.” Figuring I should get on track with the little show I’d come up with before they demanded I fuck off and send over the hot blonde with the fake tits, I continued. “Now, who’s up for a smoke?” I asked, letting a ring of the same puff out from my lips. The woman with all the diamonds lifted a brow, impressed by my little trick, and I pushed on, letting my eyes glow like embers. “I’m also available if you need a light.” “An elemental!” the man to my left said, eager and excited, like a kid meeting a sports star for the first time. “Here to do tricks for us!” “Now, now,” I said, tapping the pack nearest my left hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Who’s up first?”

“I certainly am!” the old man said, before I felt a firm hand grip my ass and squeeze. “I like ‘em feisty.” Lost to mindless outrage, I shifted my weight, pulling my ass out of his grip, squeezing the pack of cigarettes I’d been tapping into my fist, and shoved it at the old man’s face. I stuffed it into his mouth as my outrage at being violated flamed around my fingers to engulf his face and set his beard on fire. The rest of the table screamed, jumping to their feet, complaining, yowling out nonsense cries of disagreement. I shoved, following the werewolf to the ground as his chair tipped. I was buried in my rage, pleased to feel my flame eat through the hair on his face and jump to the hair on his head. “You asshole,” I growled, leaning close, though blocked by my tray from getting right up in his face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Chaos reigned for a bit, as the lecherous old fart failed to fight me off, his strength a moot point against the pain my flame was inflicting any time he tried to get in close enough to touch me. I heard my name yelled a few times, knew the moment the rest of the club realized what was going on, and considered that I should probably back off before I killed him. I didn’t end up having to control myself in the end, though. Wind, elemental and easily directed, picked me up, flung me back against the wall, and pinned me there. My flame seemed to suck right out of my pores, swirling around my head to blind me, making me cough at the lack of oxygen, and then the next thing I knew, I was being dropped on my ass, though still held in place by the gust. Flake or not, Franny knew how to handle a fire elemental who’d lost her head.

“What the hell were you doing?” Lina demanded as she slammed the door to her office, leaving the two of us alone. My shirt had been nearly burnt off, but my pants were in good shape. I wondered if they’d let me keep them or if the singe marks I’d left would be worth cleaning out for later use. “He grabbed my ass!” I yowled, throwing my arms up, unable to believe she was even questioning my reaction. Werewolves weren’t known for taking shit any easier than fire elementals. I was certain if some asshole had grabbed her without her permission, she’d have caved his head in. “Of course he did,” she said, seething. “That’s part of the job.” “What the fuck?” I demanded, horrified. “Since when?” “Torrance and Robby didn’t tell you?” Then, with a knowing sigh, she added, “Quinn didn’t tell you?” “No!” I shrieked, clenching my fists. “That asshole,” she said, shaking her head. A growl rumbled through her chest and an adrenaline spike reminded me that the full moon wasn’t too far off. “I’m … sorry then.” “I can’t believe you just let men grab women like that!” “Not men, not women, everyone.” She took a deep breath, still fighting off the anger at Quinn’s stupidity, but pressed on. “Robby gets it from men, Torrance gets it from women. The bouncers don’t take it from anyone, not unless they want to. The bartender, me, it’s part of the fun.” “I don’t find it fun,” I growled, feeling heat threaten to leak out through my skin again. I controlled it, only because I really needed the job. “Yeah, I get that.” Pursing her lips, she fisted her hands on her hips, took a deep breath through her nose, and then gestured at me. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you work here.” “But Quinn—”

“My brother is an asshole,” she said forcefully. “But I’m the boss. And I can’t have this sort of liability on my hands. But!” Seeing my forthcoming argument, she held up a finger. “You can keep the tips, I’ll pay you for today, and I won’t press charges.” “Press charges!?” I demanded, before I could stop myself. She just watched me, brow lifted, clearly waiting for me to come to my senses and realize the favor she was doing me. It took what felt like an eternity, but I did in the end. Breathing heavily, keeping my lips glued shut to keep myself from complaining, I nodded once. She relaxed visibly, sighed again, and gestured to the door. “Get your stuff. I’ll send you a check.” After a moment, she relented, “Keep the pants.”

I didn’t run into Franny on the way out, which I was okay with. She’d have wanted to apologize for knocking me around, and I didn’t want to hear it. She hadn’t done anything wrong and I was embarrassed by the damage I’d done. The old man had lost all the hair on his head to my rage, though the healer on staff had handled all the actual damage I’d done to him. I was certain the club was going to owe him a lot of money because of me but I didn’t feel that bad. Not until I saw Beau out on the street, anyway. "Damnit,” I sighed, stopping dead rather than stomping away. I was just too tired to fight the inevitable. “Let’s get coffee,” he said with a small smile. “You get coffee,” I snapped, staring at him from across the expanse of sidewalk. “I don’t drink coffee.” “Perfect, then we have no reason to go anywhere. Catch you later.” “Please?” he asked simply, making me reconsider my ire. I watched him, my jaw set, contemplating our history, and shrugged heavily. He gestured off to the side, and then fell into step beside me as I began walking. We didn’t speak until we got to the café, a cozy little shop open all night and filled with a much more desirable clientele than the usual types that haunted the Underground’s overnight establishments. He let me order, didn’t offer to pay, and didn’t comment on the wad of cash I pulled out of my hip pack. We took a seat at a corner table, I took a long sip on my outrageously sweet mocha, and he waited patiently for me to start. “What do you want?” I asked finally. Without taking his golden gaze off mine, he tucked a hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and slid it across the table. “Your license.” I stared at it, perplexed, touched, shocked, and on the verge of tears. I didn’t

know what to say. Silence stretched, pregnant and precarious, before it came to me. “What the fuck is this?” Beau laughed, a full and hearty sound, his gaze dropping to the table as he enjoyed the joy. Feeling a grin tug at my lips, I ed in for the last of it, shaking my head and taking another drink off my treat. “I’ve filed all the paperwork, pulled some strings, and gotten you reinstated. You can start collecting slips at any time. We’ve got a number out right now, actually. The closure of Mezzeluna’s facility released a great number of … less than desirable vampires back onto the street. The majority are catch-and-release, but there are a few final calls in there as well, if you need somewhere dire to direct your temper.” “And you’re just giving me this, out of the goodness of your own heart?” “Hardly,” he said, sitting up as if offended by the accusation that he was a nice dude. “I’m doing the community a service. You’ve burned down four buildings in the last three days.” “I did not!” I argued, anger over Penelope’s lie choking me. I stammered for a moment, before flailing my arm in a desperate and uncoordinated point toward Howling. “That stupid sex club is still standing!” “Carnelian Moon?” Beau asked, before wincing. “Unfortunately.” “The other one!” Realizing he sort of had a point, that the ambiguity of which building I had nearly destroyed was indeed a problem, I collapsed back into my chair. “But yeah, okay.” “Now can we talk about my other issue?” he asked after a bit. I met his gaze, wondering what his angle was. If my license really was already back I didn’t even need the paper he’d given me. It was in the system, and I could storm out right then and there and not have to give him a thing. Swallowing thickly, figuring I might as well return his goodwill with some of my own, I nodded. “Yeah, all right. What do you need?”

“A date,” he said smoothly, holding my gaze intensely, the tone of his voice and the look in his eye reminding me suddenly and strongly of the kiss we’d shared as a cover to our illicit snooping. “Why me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, knowing he wasn’t going to give the same, sweet answer to that question that Ansel had. “Short notice,” he said, though I could tell he was evading. “Scepter already has your measurements. She can whip you up something to wear in no time.” “Scepter?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “I’m not wearing another stiff neck-cage. And I’m not letting you bite me again.” He held my eye in that perfectly vampire way that only a bloodsucker can, the rest of the world falling away as if nothing mattered to either of us except staring desperately into each other’s souls. It was he who broke the though, his eyes blinking shut, opening to reveal he was looking down at the table. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, wondering what exactly had just ed between us, and then figured I might as well agree. “Fine,” I said, clearing the quiet out of my throat and repeating at full volume. “Fine. If you need a favor, I can do you a favor. Just let me know where to meet you and when.” His eyes remained downcast for a bit, as if he had changed his mind, before he took a breath of his own—habit, rather than necessity, I knew—and grinned. Damnit, I thought immediately. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

8

Ansel stepped out onto the porch to wave me down as I drove past. I slowed, rolling down the enger window and peering out as he jogged closer. “Hey, long time no see.” “Sorry, I’m still working on that whole job thing.” “Any luck?” I thought about Beau’s gift to me—well, to the city, as he’d put it—but didn’t feel like going into all that. Shrugging, I nodded. “More or less.” “I just wanted to make sure we’re still up for the campaign event? Day after tomorrow, in the evening. Are you free?” I’d completely forgotten, but I didn’t want to make him feel bad and come right out and say that, so I nodded again, forcefully this time. “Yeah, of course.” “Great! Like I said, it’s nothing serious, you don’t have to dress up. I’m just interested in your company, in your endorsement.” “My endorsement?” Confused, I felt my gaze roll away as I considered his words. My head followed and next thing I knew, I was staring at the steering wheel. Blinking, I looked back over at him. “What does that matter?” “Like I said before,” he began, resting his arms on the door and leaning further in as if he wanted to get comfy. “You’re a person of interest, someone who’s accomplished some pretty big things. Plus, you’re, um. You know, normal.” I let out a bark of a laugh without meaning to and Ansel grinned, finding my assessment of myself funny. “You are. I’m not, not really. I grew up different than most people. Most of the people who will be voting will see me as some rich asshole werewolf. You’ll

ground me, let people know I’m just a rich werewolf, not so much an asshole.” “You’re not any bit of an asshole,” I said, though I felt he was giving me and my sway over the general public too much credit. I couldn’t even get coffee without the whole shop burning down around me, apparently. People weren’t going to be impressed by Sophia Wagner. “I’ll go, but I think you’d be better off choosing someone else.” “I’d rather have you there.” He said it softly, more intently than I felt made sense, and I realized after a long, silent moment that we were just sitting there, holding eye . I dropped my gaze, gestured vaguely at nothing, and then made a long sound of uncertainty. “Uhhh. Well, cool. I’ve … gotta get some rest. Had another interesting day and apparently I have a thing tomorrow. But, I’ll be there for you—for your thing. For …” Realizing nothing was coming out right and my cheeks were burning with embarrassment that I didn’t understand and that I hated, I shook my head. “Your event. I’ll come—er, go. With you. To the …” Giving up entirely, I let out a nervous laugh, forced myself to meet his gaze, and shooed him away ruthlessly, needing the conversation to be over immediately. “Sleep well, pal!” Ansel watched me, his grin only making things worse, making the heat in my cheeks warp from embarrassment toward something much more dangerous. After another long silence that probably only took a moment, he nodded and leaned back, freeing me to speed off in terror of what had possibly just gone on between us.

I woke up the next morning feeling free and hopeful and excited about the future. I couldn’t tell you why, exactly. Nothing had really changed or gotten better now that I had my license back. I was still going to have to compete for bounties, probably end up taking the scraps that quicker and better hunters didn’t want, and be constantly short on cash. I’d still lost the beautiful, enchanted coat Ansel had gotten me—and don’t think I wasn’t going to handle that little problem—and still had to go to not one, but two political events. But things just felt normal. I got to do my own thing, something I understood and was comfortable with, and at my own pace. I didn’t have to worry about having a boss standing over my shoulder as I worked. I didn’t have to be nice to the vampires I tracked down and I could talk easy shit with the cops who collected the bounty from me at the end of the day. I didn’t have to worry about werewolf nightclubs, double-crossing, arsonist bosses, or accidentally frying a bus boy. I was back on my own version of solid ground. And—I ed, delighted by Ansel’s generosity now that I could eventually, maybe, in much smaller ways pay him back—I had food in my fridge. Rich people food even, with tons of expensive butter and curls of delicate vegetables set gently and deliberately across the top as if they served some actual function. By the time I’d eaten and showered and dressed, I was pumped and ready to go out and conquer the world.

“You’re looking pleased with yourself,” Catherine said as I approached the counter. I glanced over, shocked to see her in the bowels of Central and wondering if she’d come specifically to give me shit. “I’m mainly pleased with the morning, actually. It’s been decent, all things considered. What’re you doing ‘round these parts?” “Saw you coming in, thought I’d come have a chat.” “I’m not going to burn anything down this time, I swear.” She smiled, amused by my oath, and then jerked her head as a gesture to follow her. Confused, I looked briefly between her and the desk agent, smiled politely at the latter, and then went with my old schoolmate. Catherine didn’t take me all the way to her office this time, just to the ladies room, which would have seemed weird if we hadn’t had experienced having semi-private chats this way as kids. “Must be serious,” I said, leaning against the row of sinks. She gave a loose shrug, scanned the stalls to make sure we really were alone, and then turned back to me. “Franny came to see me.” “Ah,” I said, figuring I knew what was about to go down. “Look, I didn’t know the grab-ass was part of the gig. I thought the guy was just—” “No, she explained that. She wasn’t tattling on you. We keep in touch, so she figured I could get you a message, since she doesn’t know how. Apparently the guy you …” Catherine smirked and I could tell she didn’t have a problem with what I’d done to Handy McGrandpa after he’d molested me. Taking a moment to consider her words, she settled on, “Bothered is mad.” “He’s mad?” I demanded, instantly angry, despite the fact that some small part of me could see his point. If I’d been told I was allowed to, say, steal cookies from the cookie jar, I’d be pissed if someone tried to light me on fire for doing just that. But really, stealing cookies—and grabbing asses—makes you a dick, so my well of sympathy for the guy was pretty shallow. “He’s mad? What the hell?”

“He’s rich,” she said with a shrug. “It’s part of the appeal of the place, or so I’m told. The owner of the place is on your side—” “She’d better be.” The look Catherine gave me made me figure I should shut up and listen, rather than making any more smartass comments. “She’s on your side, so she’s been holding him off, refusing to give your information to any of the interested parties working for him, but Franny figured you’d want the heads-up that someone’s trying to rustle up your info.” “Ah,” I said, nodding. “Well. If you see her again—I probably shouldn’t head over there and thank her myself—tell her I appreciate it.” “Will do.” “That it?” I asked, as a woman I recognized from the bounty counter came in. Catherine nodded to her, and then to me. “All set.” “Cool. I gotta go get a bounty ticket, then.” “But you’re not dating Beau?” she asked, a grin teasing her lips. I wrinkled my nose, backing toward the door as I shook my head rapidly. “No. Hell no. He did me a favor but we’re not dating.” “So you’re not going with him to his campaign dinner tonight?” “Uhh.” I had an answer for that but didn’t really wanna give it. “Where’d you hear that?” “Everyone talks about everybody here.” “Well tell everyone to mind their own business,” I said, yanking open the door and fleeing before she could ask anything else about the status of my relationship with the boss.

My first bounty back was an easy one, a dopey vampire who’d just grown into thralling and who couldn’t control his baser impulses. He hadn’t done any real damage by mind-controlling a convenience store clerk into giving him two bottles of cheap wine so he could impress a girl, but that was enough in the eyes of the law. He had to do ninety days, since it was a first offense, and I had to make sure he made it to lock-up. “You don’t understand,” he whined for the third time as I hauled him out of my back seat, cuffed and complaining. I considered that I really should invest in a muzzle. “It don’t count, you see?” “How don’t it count?” I asked, still dragging him across the sidewalk and up to the doors of Central. “The clerk handed over the wine when you told him to. For free. Because you thralled him. That’s serious shit right there, pal.” “No, no, I got that,” he said, dancing awkwardly to the side as a cop pushed past, ignoring him completely. “But the girl, see, she didn’t even put out. What’s the point?” “Of thralling?” I asked, shoving him against the intake counter and digging the bounty slip out of my pocket. “Or of women in general?” He gave a raucous laugh at my joke and I glanced over at him, certain I’d be hauling him in again for something worse in the future. Maybe not something more violent, but he’d be a repeat offender, all right. “Sorry, pal,” I said to the dope, even as I nodded to the cop who would haul him into the reinforced but temporary holding cell. “You still did the deed. Maybe next time you’ll think about it before you impose your will on someone just because you wanna get laid.” “Spoilsport!” he accused, before getting muzzled by the cop, who dragged him away without a word. “That was quick,” Carrie said, sliding the ticket back to me after having stamped and scanned it. “Might be a record.” “Yeah, he was easy to find.” I shook my head, leaning against the counter. “How

do dumbasses like that even get vamped anyway?” “Other dumbasses?” she suggested. I nodded. “Must be.” “Still time to grab another before they close up,” she offered, glancing at the clock on the wall across from her counter. “If you hurry.” I shook my head. “Actually, I got a thing. You have a good one.” “See ya ‘round, Softy.” I paused, turning back to her, confused, the nickname startling me. “What?” “Isn’t that what Joey used to call you?” Realizing that it might be a sad subject, she winced. “Sorry. I was—Sorry.” “No,” I said, shaking my head, wishing it would be enough to shake loose the sudden knot in my throat. “You’re—It’s cool.” “Sorry,” she repeated. “I was just being silly, you know? It’s just a funny nickname, you know? Um. Cuz you’re …” she trailed off, realizing there was no nice way to point out the irony. “A bitch?” I finished for her. Carrie’s apple cheeks went beet red and she winced. “I didn’t mean—” “You’re cool,” I said, smiling for real, suddenly finding the whole situation as funny as my bounty had found my misogyny. “We’re good. See you around.”

Beau was waiting by my car for me, standing near the enger door as if he was a valet and it was an expensive limo, rather than a cheap, rusted, boat-sized disaster waiting to happen. I frowned at him, suspicious in an instant. “What?” “We’re still on for tonight?” “I said we were,” I crowed, annoyed he didn’t trust me. “You also said you didn’t burn down a coffee shop two days ago.” “I didn’t!” Incensed, I got up in his face, needling him in the chest with a flaming finger, partly because I couldn’t control it and partly because I knew he was wearing a warded outfit that wouldn’t be affected. “That bitch is a filthy liar. A filthy, insurance-scamming liar!” “I believe you,” he said quietly, his beautiful eyes fixed intently on my face. “Should we take your car or mine?” His eyes narrowed briefly, before his gaze slid to the scratched door of my ugly vehicle, and then back to my face. “On second thought, let’s take mine.” I could have probably argued, if only because I hadn’t realized we were leaving so soon and I wanted to stop by home and clean up before letting him get his grubby hands on me for whatever stupid outfit he was going to insist I wear to the event. But, incoming bounty payment aside, I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to afford gas again, so I knew it was wise to save what Ansel had gifted me. “Fine,” I said, though I gestured. “I’ve got to move this thing, though. It’s in a loading zone.” “What were you loading?” he asked, one brow arched. I shrugged. “Something stupid.”

Scepter’s place was the same, which didn’t exactly surprise me, considering how recently I’d been there, but somehow I’d expected something different. Maybe new lackeys or a different candle scent. Something I couldn’t pinpoint felt different, even though nothing really was. “You look chilly,” Scepter said, looking me up and down the same dehumanizing way she had before. I shrugged, grumpy in an instant. “Some asshole stole my coat.” “I’ll make sure to keep you covered up,” she purred, stepping forward and twisting to slide her arm around mine, leading me away from Beau as if he didn’t exist at all. I fought the urge to throw a curious look his way, figuring he’d be more annoyed with me if I treated him as nothing, just like she was. It was petty, but it was satisfying. We went through the same door to the same back room, down the same hall to the same spa and I sighed, annoyed already at the scrubbing and washing I was going to be subjected to. Apparently the legit smell of me was offensive, even though I had showered and put on clean clothes this time. To my surprise, Scepter led me to the makeup chair instead of to the showers, and gestured generously as if it were a luxury car and not a seat on awkward stilts. “I’m not being dunked in bleach this time?” Scepter smiled, revealing her impressive, venomous teeth. “Beau was specific that you were to be minimally processed this time.” “Like a slab of beef?” She tilted her head, lifting a brow as she considered her answer. “More like an expensive fish. You’re interesting enough in your … natural state.” As she turned to glide away, I took a self-conscious sniff of my underarm.

“I can’t even think in this,” I complained, tilting my head back to dump the heavy hood off. I could feel the weight of it settle along my spine and it only made me feel more incompetent and helpless. Beau, who had taken the time to be buffed and scrubbed, grinned at me from my left but didn’t speak. Scepter gestured ever so slightly with one finger and her assistant bolted into action, draping the hood back over my head, tucking it next to my cheeks as if the temperature was about to plummet and my ears would freeze off without the protection. “You look dangerous,” Scepter said, stepping to the side to let me get the full reflection of myself in the three angled mirrors ahead. I sighed, feeling dangerous for reasons other than the blood red and black fabric hugging me from throat to thighs and flaring out dramatically from there. The dress was a waste of silk, as far as I was concerned, possibly all the silk that had been left in the world. It had a train that was longer than I was tall, a bustle that stuck out far enough on its own, and ruffles on top of that. The throat curled out in an obnoxious explosion of black feathers, but beneath that, much of my chest was exposed under metallic red lines flaring from my throat like the rays of a sunrise. The crimson shine was echoed below in the buckles tightening the useless straps across my belly. The hood was heavy, made of layers and layers of gauzy fabric in all shades of red and orange, each of which was see-through on its own, but opaque once crammed together and draped heavily over my head. The cape below, lacking most of the layers of the hood, showed off my bare back, revealed in the shape of a droplet. The crack of my ass was only barely hidden beneath the bottom curve, which made me nervous. Really, though, barely-covered ass or not, the rest of the dress made me dread the evening I had agreed to suffer through. “Did you design this so I couldn’t move on purpose?” I asked, turning my head to see Beau and finding that the hood didn’t turn with me and I was suddenly muffled and blinded by tulle. “Damnit.” “You look impressive, dangerous,” Scepter explained again, the pride in her voice grating on my nerves more than the outlandish makeup they’d coated on my face before stuffing me into this monstrosity. “It brings to mind your power, your femininity, your triumphant achievement in overcoming your enemies. It’s

art.” “Yes,” Beau said, stepping into view deliberately, his lips curved in a smug, selfsatisfied smile. “It’s art.” “Well, maybe I’ll appreciate it more after you’re both dead,” I said, feeling my palms heat with frustration. I wanted to light the whole mess on fire, even knowing that it would leave me naked in front of Beau. He’d seen it all before, how embarrassing could it really be? As if sensing my half-cocked plan to destroy all the work his friend had put into making me look like a doll designed by a caffeine- and sugar-addled little girl Beau closed in. Positioning himself close, he looked up into my eyes intently. I felt the weight of his gaze and it was nearly heavier than the damn hood. “At the end of the night, I promise you can peel the entire outfit off and set it on fire. I’ll help you, if you’d like.” I scowled, felt my eye twitch, and looked to Scepter to see what she thought of the idea of destroying her masterpiece. She was watching us with a knowing expression that made me wish I could figure out what it was she thought she knew. I could probably guarantee it wasn’t what she thought it was. Sighing, I shrugged, grabbing handfuls of the heavy skirt to yank it up enough so that I could kick my bare foot out. “Shoe me like a horse and let’s just get this over with.”

9

Beau was nearly as dolled up as I was, but didn’t look half as uncomfortable. His suit, just like last time, matched mine in color and theme, with feathers at the throat, and an insane, useless cape. He didn’t need a hood, apparently, and I wondered if this was for dramatic effect, an off-kilter attempt at concealing my identity like I was some mystical oracle of yore. Or, I considered, maybe he really just wanted me to have trouble seeing and moving. I’d nearly burned down some old bitch vampire the last time he’d taken me to his fancy club after all. I guess I could understand the desire to have something like a leash and muzzle on me. We didn’t have to go through an inspection before we entered, but Beau nodded to the old fart vampire who’d deemed me worthy last time. I couldn’t his name, despite having learned it so recently, so I decided to just refer to him as Grandpa if the occasion arose. Beau led me through the foyer, into the grand hall beyond, and I fought the urge to check my train as we went. I knew I couldn’t see behind me without throwing off the hood, and Beau had assured me that my dumb dress style wasn’t uncommon here and that anyone who dared to mess it up knew there would be consequences. Not just from me, either. Apparently vampire fashion is a big deal. Though, when you’re eight-thousand years old and bored as hell, I guess you’ve got nothing else to focus on. Beau moved slowly, nodding and greeting everyone who vied for his attention, introducing me here and there when my presence was addressed. I couldn’t see half the people he was speaking to because of the damned hood, but that was fine with me. I still wasn’t even sure what I was doing there. He was a smooth bloodsucker and I hunted his kind for a living. I couldn’t imagine anyone here really wanted to get to know me or cared about my opinion on his suitability for the job of Magistrate. Finally, at the end of the grand hall, we approached an open set of doors leading

to a large ballroom that looked as if it had been built during the time of ancient kings and deadly famines. I could feel the fire in the torches and lamps, popping and cracking in that resentful way fire generally does when forced into a purpose other than destruction. Normally fire doesn’t speak to me all that loudly but, since Beau and I had burned down a major pharmaceutical company, my relationship with the stuff felt like it had changed slightly. I wouldn’t say I could hear thoughts or feel feelings, but there was a sort of aura fire put off that I could read in a way I hadn’t been able to. I wasn’t spending any time analyzing it, but it felt right, comfortable somehow, like I alway should have been able to commune with flame, but just hadn’t taken the time. I nearly tripped over my stupid dress as Beau led me around the perimeter toward a table on the dais at the front of the room. I was so focused on the fire in all the lamps and torches, I hadn’t been watching my step well enough. “You all right?” Beau asked quietly, clearly aiming to tease me a bit for my stumble. I ignored him, realizing as he spoke why the fire around me was so interesting to my own. “Hey, I know this guy,” I mumbled, my mouth quirking into an awkward smile. I perked up, trying to see around the room despite the damned hood, and nearly walked into another vampire who’d approached while I’d been goggling. “Beau.” “Cordara,” Beau said warmly, making me jerk around in a panic. My hood stayed fixed, blinding me as it had been doing, and I swore, swiping it angrily off my face so I could make sure the asshole vampire I’d nearly careened into was who I thought she was. “You’ve brought your pet,” she said, focused on Beau with her dark eyes as if she could laser right through him to the wall beyond. Something must have tipped Beau off to the fact that I really wanted to tell her off, because he tensed his arm, squeezing mine against his side as he spoke again. “You’ve let yourself fall ignorant in your old age,” Beau said, a note of pity in his tone. I slid my gaze to his face, grinning without meaning to, even though I was more confused than amused. “Otherwise you’d know Sophia isn’t my pet at all.”

“So you bring her among us as an equal?” Cordara asked, her gaze sparking with something I didn’t like. “Not equal,” I snapped, leaning in as far as Beau’s tight grip on my arm would let me. “I’m way above your level, you creaky, arrogant prick.” “Sophia, why don’t we take our seats?” “You dare—” Cordara began, ignoring Beau, as he did her. “Come on, before they start serving.” Beau’s interruption was smooth, dismissive, shocking not only Cordara but me as well. I hadn’t really spouted off with any expectations or intentions past soothing my own ego and enjoying my own immaturity, but it did surprise me that he wasn’t chastising me. Last time I’d given this asshole a piece of my mind, Beau had done everything except spank me and put me to bed without supper. Though, I thought sheepishly as he pulled me away from Cordara’s outraged, snarling face, it might have gone that far if I’d let the kiss he laid on me continue. Stuffing down the feelings that memory brought up, I let him haul me off, staring studiously at the ground instead of up at his face. We continued through the large room, past the flames that had initially intrigued me, and up to the table at the head of the room. Beau took his seat in the middle of the table, letting a lackey pull out both his chair and mine, and then smiled politely over at me once we were settled. Confused, bothered, and still hoping no one tripped over the train behind the small but uncomfortable bustle that kept me perched literally on the edge of the upholstery, I sat in silence. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but Beau wasn’t offering up any sort of explanation, so I decided to just sit in petty silence until he did.

Beau never explained himself, but he ended up too busy answering questions and taking greetings from other, less bitchy vampires to chat with me. I stayed quiet, keeping to myself and wishing I had my phone to amuse me. I thought about asking for a pen and doodling on the tablecloth, but it looked expensive and I’m not much of a doodler. Time crawled along, leaving me miserable, bored, and ready to set fire to my dress just so I could run out of the building unencumbered, but eventually things got interesting. I could feel another fire elemental—something else I hadn’t really been able to do before with any certainty—somewhere off in the distance. I couldn’t feel him psychically or even be sure it was a him, but the sudden appearance of elemental fire on my radar told me that another one of us was around. Since the fire burning around the ballroom matched the fire that had just sprung up, and it felt familiar, I was pretty sure I could tell from experience what and whom I was feeling. “I gotta hit the bathroom,” I said to Beau, hoping that would be excuse enough to let me out of my prison of ennui so I could go chat with one of my own. “I’ll have someone escort you,” Beau offered, making me snort. “I’m not a child,” I said, ignoring the look he gave me in response. “Just give me general directions and I’ll figure it out on my own.” “What about the dress?” he asked knowingly. “Will you be able to figure that out?” “Can’t be any worse than peeing in a wedding dress,” I said, getting to my feet and throwing the servants around me into a tizzy. “Probably.” Sighing, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to convince me to stay, he held a hand up to alert the servants to stand aside, and then leaned in to offer me a series of directions that were complicated enough that I was glad I didn’t really have to pee. I focused on the elemental fire, wondering what it had been produced for. I

hustled toward it, nodding cluelessly at anyone who tried to speak to me, hoping they’d just think I was an idiot and not rude. I wasn’t sure which was better for Beau’s image but I only really gave half a shit, so what did it matter? He was rich and beautiful and he had rich and beautiful vampires behind his candidacy. He didn’t need my help. Especially now that he was running against a werewolf; they’d all rally around him twice as frantically, I was certain. I got out into the grand hallway, took a beeline to the left, caught my stupid dress on a door, and nearly lost my footing. Managing to gather it up as best as I could, I continued my hustle, tearing through doors and hallways that I was fairly certain I probably wasn’t really allowed into, and finally paused in a dark, narrow hall that smelled like roses and musk. I was lost, I realized, spinning in an awkward circle, before swearing heartily and trying to which way I’d actually come from. “Mistress?” I heard a voice call from behind me, before the lights flipped on. I spun to face the speaker and grinned immediately, glad my aimless wandering had paid off. “Sophia?” “Mickey!” I cried closing in to pull the elemental I’d been hunting into a hug. He laughed softly, too shocked to hug me back, and blinked down at me, his mouth open in shock, but doing its best to grin. “What the hell are you doing here?” “I … should ask you the same thing. And also add, what the hell are you wearing?” “Right?” I asked, shaking my head, stepping back, nearly tripping over the damn train again, and swearing quietly. Mickey snorted out a laugh as I adjusted the mountains of fabric and then sighed and gave up. “I’m doing a favor for a friend.” “A vampire friend?” he asked, lifting a brow suspiciously, before his expression warped into one of eager recognition. “Oh! You’re here for Beau!” “You know Beau?” “Of him. He doesn’t come around much, but the whole place is abuzz about him getting Magistrate, and how he hopes to keep the position.” “Yeah, he—”

“Wait! Shit!” Mickey did a little dance, excitable as ever, interrupting me shamelessly. “Does that mean—that was you!” “What was me?” I asked, anxious instantly. Usually accusations hurled at me are nothing but bad news and likely to end in me running off in the other direction. “You took down Mezzeluna!” “Oh.” Sick of that old story, I shook my head, waving my hands desperately in front of me. “No, no. I mean, sort of. I just—I didn’t do anything. I mean, I burned some stuff down, but—” “Exactly!” Snapping with both hands, sparks flying off his fingertips in an excited burst, Mickey danced foot to foot as he continued. “You hunted those bastards and you put a stop to them trying to kill us all! You got the proof needed to put away the bad guys and you burnt the place to the ground! You’re a hero! Everyone knows it.” “That’s not really how—” “Everyone here’s been talking about it! It’s a big deal! Beau’s been bragging about bringing you along for awhile, telling everyone how you’re with him, how you think he’s the best man for the Magistrate gig. You’re half the reason he wanted this party!” “He’s been bragging about what?” I demanded, wondering where the hell this idea had come from. I didn’t give two shits who took over the Magistrate role and if he was saying otherwise, he was straight up lying. “Well, you know what I mean. Vampires and all that.” “I don’t know what you mean. Explain.” I could feel my hands heating up, my neck beneath the feathers tingling, and the heat at the back of my throat threatening to kindle into breathable flames. “You know, vampires don’t really brag, they just tell an underling to brag for them, and then they spread the news to other underlings and it becomes a whole gossip mill where the old ones pretend they aren’t listening, but they’re totally listening and spreading it all themselves. So it wasn’t really him, but it was him.”

“That bastard!” I snapped, heaving smoke out from between my lips, and forcing myself to swallow the flame that wanted to follow it. Taking a deep, calming breath, I looked around the hall, shaking my head, suddenly outraged not only that Beau was using me as some stupid pawn in his political aspirations, but also that I had no idea where the hell I was and how to storm out and leave him to his fancy party and jackass friends. “You didn’t know?” Mickey asked, shifting his footing, realizing for the first time that I wasn’t as delighted by the whole situation as he was. The realization that he was here willingly and eagerly hit me and I threw my gaze back to his face, squinting as I inspected him. “What the hell are you doing here?” Gesturing wildly to nothing, feeling sparks fly off my own fingertips to leave tiny scars in the carpet, I jerked my chin at him. “You hunting someone?” “Nah, I’m outta that life.” “Since when?” “Uhh, maybe a week into it?” Mickey laughed, shrugging good-naturedly. “I couldn’t hack it. But, one of the owners of the club found me, offered me a gig here. I do a little of everything. Some security, some set-up, I run things Topside during daylight hours if they need. Pay’s good and it’s not too frustrating.” “Really?” I asked, flabbergasted by the idea of not being constantly annoyed by ancient, snooty vampires. “You don’t blow your lid twice a day because some asshole talks down to you?” “Nah.” He grinned, just standing there amiably for a minute, before knocking his hand gently against my arm. “You’re still hunting, though?” “Yeah, usually. Doesn’t pay much, but … Well, no, that’s about it. It doesn’t pay much.” Mickey laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I them telling us that before graduation. Anyway. You okay?” “I don’t know,” I itted, still trying to figure out what my plan was. I wanted to find my way back to Beau, tell him off in front of his asshole friends, and then

leave, but I wasn’t sure I could find my way anywhere. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I could move in the damn dress I was wearing. I’d turned myself in circles enough in the hall that I was sure I was permanently bound up in it. “Just tell me how to get out of here and I’ll figure it out.” Mickey watched me suspiciously for a moment, before leaning in close. “Security, ? You’re not planning anything bad are you?” “Not planning anything,” I said, shaking my head. “Planning’s not my thing. I usually just go with my gut.” “Well. What’s your gut telling you now?” I sighed, still honestly unsure. My initial rage at Beau had subsided some, but I still hated the idea of him using me as a campaign prop. I understood it, but I hated it. My silence stretched on long enough that a door at the far end of the hall opened and carts full of food started barreling toward us. “Oh, I lost track of time!” Mickey said, leaning in to scoot me and my obnoxious dress out of the way of the servers. “I’ll get you back to the dining room— assuming you promise not to light Beau on fire.” I laughed at the image, delighted by it, despite the pit of guilt that opened up in my guts. He was my friend, inexplicably, and I didn’t really want him to die. I just sort of liked the idea of teaching him not to mess with a fire elemental, especially not a loose cannon like myself. Especially not one he’d claimed to care about. “No,” I said after a bit, shaking my head. “Unless he really pushes it, I’ll be good.” “You swear?” “I totally fucking swear,” I joked, getting a whiff of the food, and feeling my stomach growl. “And yeah, I promise. There’s only one asshole in there who seems determined to force my hand and it’s not Beau.” Mickey leaned in real close, making it clear he didn’t want any of the servers to hear as he asked, “Cordara?”

“How’d you know?” “She and Beau are … um. Less than friendly.” “Yeah,” I itted. “I got that much. You know why?” “You’d have to ask them.” “I don’t wanna know that much,” I said. Mickey laughed, crouching suddenly down to gather up my dress and shuffle it around my feet to the back. “I’ll get this, you follow the servers.” “If it gets too heavy, just burn it all down,” I joked, doing as he said. Mickey laughed again. “The fire elemental motto.”

10

I plopped my bustled butt down into the chair next to Beau, leaning in close to threaten, “You and I are gonna have a talk later.” “Of course,” Beau said in the same tone he’d used on Cordara. His casual patronization inflamed me, making my palms go hot again. A little bit of steam came out of my nose, which was strange and unusual, but not unheard of. I took a deep breath, focusing on calming myself, on keeping myself from setting Beau on fire and leaving by way of burning a hole in the wall, and sighed out my impending rage. Beau waited until I was calm before turning to smile at me and I got the distinct impression his behavior wasn’t accidental or unintentional. He knew exactly how to press my buttons and, if I wasn’t mistaken, he wanted me to explode. Narrowing my eyes, holding his gaze, I wondered what his motive was, why he wanted me to put him and all his possible donors in danger by losing my cool. He was warded, probably quite well if Scepter was as rich and detail-oriented as she seemed, and he was probably mostly protected from my fire, but I was betting his friends nearby weren’t. And who knew if Scepter had bothered to ward my ridiculous dress? Beau could be hurt by my fire, so it made sense to protect himself from it. If I got mad, though, the worst thing that would happen to me as a result was that I might die of embarrassment once everyone saw my bony, naked body. A server leaned in, silently setting a plate in front of me as one of his coworkers set a goblet in front of Beau. Their movements were exactly synchronized and silent, and they served everyone at once, like robots, or soldiers running through some sort of drill. The realization that Beau was about to enjoy a glass of blood threw me and I sat there in silence for a bit. I’d seen him drink blood before; it wasn’t a new thing. The blood was most likely synthetic, too, so I wasn’t worried that these fanged idiots had chained up helpless victims in the basement or anything. The last time I had seen Beau drink blood, though, it had been mine.

The festivities kicked off then, a series of boring speeches and rousing talks about Beau’s greatness, and how lucky they all would be to have someone permanently in charge who would have the interests of vampires in mind while governing. I didn’t like the sound of that, but I didn’t speak up. Not only was I not really sure how to articulate my thoughts, I was suddenly preoccupied with wanting to get the hell out of there. The dress, Beau’s ego, the sight of blood on the corners of his lips before he dabbed it off: it was all too much. “How long is this shindig?” I asked once the fifth speaker of the night sat down and summoned a servant for more blood. “Not much longer,” Beau said condescendingly, patting my thigh through the heavy layers of silk. “Be a good girl and finish your meal.” “I’ll finish you, how about that?” I growled, shoving his hand off my lap and feeling my fire react to the touch. Beau only smirked, the smug satisfaction with my outburst showing as clearly as the rays of gold in his beautiful eyes. My temper flared, sparking out of my pores and bursting through my lips in a mad rush of accusation. “Oh, this is what you want, you self-satisfied prick? You want me to lose my temper? To burn down your four-hundred-year-old chair and maybe you with it?” I pushed to my feet, letting my flame free, giving him what he wanted just so he could see how foolish he was being in messing with me. The vampires around us cried out as I went up, and the wails nicely matched the wavering feel of the flames dancing through the dress Scepter had made for me. She wasn’t so bad, and part of me sort of felt crappy for ruining her work, but the rest of me just hated Beau so much in that moment. His dumb, lying face, pretending to be my friend all so he could use me in his pursuit of power. I never would have done such a thing to him, gotten on his good side just so I could get something out of him. Chaos erupted around us, vampires fleeing off the stage and out of range of my flames as they sprouted about me in a fireball that greedily ate at the dress. Beau remained still and sure of himself, taking another sip of his meal before getting to his feet and lifting his arms.

“My friends, I apologize for my companion. Please, don’t be nervous, I’ll handle her.” My fire jerked at his declaration, angry that he thought anyone could handle me, let alone him. He’d been undead for long enough that we both knew he was full of shit. If I really decided to light him up, he’d be toast. When he turned toward me and held out a hand in an attempt to placate me, I fisted my right hand in rage as I slapped his hand away with my left. His expression bloomed with agonized shock a split second before he jerked back, pulling his burning hand back to his chest as if he could smother the flames. The look on his face confused me, going from pleased to pained as if he had expected a different outcome when reaching into the orb of searing power that I’d become. My dress had gone up in an instant, charring to ash all around me, though I could still feel parts of it hugging me obstinately, refusing to catch as the rest of it had. The sounds of other vampires screaming, Beau’s expression, and the stubbornness of my outfit steered me off the road I was barreling down, perplexing me just enough that I was able to blink the rage out of my eyes and begin to get control over my temper. A servant managed to smother the flames chewing ruthlessly through Beau’s hand, and my fire wanted to fight, to eat through the soaked napkin the servant was using, but I grasped it and pulled it back. It took nearly all my effort to quell my need to burn down the entire building but, mere moments after I’d been intent on lighting Beau on fire and stomping on his ashes, I backed off and put myself out. Beau and I stood, just out of arm’s reach of each other, eyes locked, jaws set, amongst the silent surprise of a few hundred vampires and servants. The room was still and quiet for a long moment before it erupted in applause that startled me into breaking eye with Beau. He was smooth, masking the anger in his face immediately as he turned to the audience—damp napkin draped over his crispy hand—and took a bow. I turned to the clapping crowd as well, scanning them with a lost and embarrassed sort of confusion, not only over what had happened, but also over the fact that I wasn’t naked as I’d expected to be.

I hadn’t given Scepter enough credit. She hadn’t just designed a ridiculous dress to make me feel like an idiot, she’d known exactly what I was prone to do when confronted with a group of fanged assholes, and had warded her creation in the most deliberate manner. I looked like a magician’s goth assistant, I decided, frowning at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, shaking my head in dismay, despite the fact that I was secretly impressed. The bustle had burned away to leave tails, the bodice and sleeves had warped into a tuxedo top, and the skirt had disappeared to leave only opaque black tights. The hood remained, but the cape had been burned right off. I wasn’t about to pull the whole thing over my hair and blind myself again, but it was a cool effect even loose over my back. Overall, it was easier to move, and I felt more myself, though still not quite as badass. Figuring I’d hidden in the ladies room long enough, I sighed at my reflection, wiped off the last of the makeup that had been forced upon me, and headed out into the room beyond. Beau stood shirtless—yowza. Dammit.—inspecting his recently healed hand as if he’d never seen it before and I wondered for an honest second if he was high. I didn’t speak, refusing to offer an apology or ask a question, and just stood nearby, waiting for him to make the first move. If he didn’t, I told myself, I could just up and leave. Without a hundred pounds of silk weighing me down, I was sure I could fight my way out, if need be. Finally, Beau lowered his arm, lifting his gaze to mine, and frowned. “You burned me.” “You patronized me.” He shook his head, turning to grab his shirt off the chair it was gently draped over. I realized at that moment that we were alone, that the servants who’d been in there earlier had disappeared. “No, I mean, your flames, they burned me. I almost lost my whole arm.” “Like I said, you—”

“No, you’re not understanding me,” he said with a sigh, abandoning the shirt and stepping in close. His quick approach put me on edge and I tensed, but didn’t give in to the instinct to protect myself. “You burned me. That should be impossible.” I snorted, shaking my head. “Good goddess, how full of yourself are you? I’m a fire elemental, you’re a vampire. Being Magistrate doesn’t change the facts. I can still hurt you; ask the last guy.” “But I drank of your blood,” Beau said quietly, his gaze holding mine. Flashing on the memory of sinking, writhing and eager, to the floor as his venom coursed through me, I swallowed audibly, feeling an entirely different kind of heat kindle at my core. “I should be immune to your flames.” “I told you,” I croaked, before clearing my throat and repeating myself clearly. “I told you, you were wrong. You were drugged and mistaken. There’s no protection from elemental magic. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. That’s not how it works.” “You’re so sure,” Beau said, his voice still soft. “But you weren’t awake when I carried you out; you didn’t see me walk unharmed through your flames as if they weren’t there. I can prove it.” “How?” I asked, feeling my heart thunder, my instincts knowing the answer before my conscious mind figured it out. “Let me drink of you again, just a taste, just enough for you to use your power upon me as proof of the immunity within your veins.” He didn’t move on me, didn’t try to bring my wrist to his lips or bite my throat, he just stayed close, his sunrise gaze searing into my eyes. He was near enough that I knew if I turned my head and offered my throat, he could press his lips to my skin and we could find out once and for all if there was truth in his words. “That was quite a little show you put on,” Cordara said from the doorway, sending my pounding heart into a tizzy. Beau’s gaze dropped, his brow lifting briefly in annoyance before he masked his face in pleasantness and turned to smile at her. “Thank you, I’m glad you were entertained. I do hope this has changed your

mind in regards to donating to my campaign.” “It wasn’t that entertaining,” Cordara said, gliding into the room, her focus darting down just long enough to consider my outfit, before she flicked her gaze back to Beau. “Just as you’re not as impressive as you think, even with your pet elemental.” “Jealousy does not become a woman of your advanced … wisdom,” Beau said, before grabbing his shirt and slipping into it. Cordara bared her teeth, turning face me in a swirl of skirts that set me on edge. I refused to back down when she pointed a deadly nail right into my face, though. I could take her. Probably. “You’ve twice made a mistake in not apologizing to me, in refusing to put yourself in your place.” “What’s my place?” I asked, letting my palm burn as I reached to swipe her hand away from my face. Despite her posturing, she jerked back before I could touch her with live fire. Finally, her bared teeth warping into a nasty grin, she tilted her head back as if offering a better look at her fangs. I faked a yawn, patting my open mouth with my flaming palm as an extra fuck-you. “You’ll see soon enough,” Cordara whispered, before turning and storming out.

“I don’t want a ride home,” I argued as Beau tried to get me to climb into his car. The driver did his studious best to not watch me throw a tantrum, but I didn’t blame him for being unable to resist. Beau would probably tip him less, but hopefully he’d at least have a story to tell his friends later on. “Then how do you propose you get home?” “There are other cars in the world,” I growled, swiping Beau’s hand away when he gently reached for me again. The intensity of the moment we’d shared back in the club was still hanging around, running occasionally through me in an electric current that I didn’t understand and didn’t like. “But can you afford any of them?” He had a point. Damnit. I watched him, still snarling, still angry, still wanting to find absolutely any other way to get out of the club’s huge grounds and back home, but I couldn’t think of any. I didn’t have my wallet or phone—Beau had insisted I leave my ugly hip pack in the car—and while I could probably grab them and escape before we’d started driving, they wouldn’t do me much good. I had no cash, no credit cards, and no desire to call Ansel and have him trek all the way out to an Underground vampire club to rescue me. “Damnit,” I growled, slapping at him just for the fun of it, before I yanked open the car door and slid inside. I refused to sit next to him, not just because I didn’t want to give him the idea that we were speaking, but also because I didn’t like the feelings swirling in my core. Some part of me had been drawn to Beau’s beauty since we’d met and I wanted to make sure that part stayed small and stupid. Beau was a predator, a creature designed to spot weakness and prey on it. If I gave in to the urges inside me, he’d spot my crumbling self-control and pounce. Then we’d both be in a pickle. I already had an arson charge against me, I didn’t need to add accidental murder to the pile. To my surprise, Beau didn’t push. He left me alone as his driver hauled me back to Central, keeping his gaze on the world as it ed by outside. I couldn’t control myself quite as well and found myself glancing at him more than I

wanted to it. My curiosity was piqued, in a horrified sort of way, by everything that had happened over the night. I couldn’t imagine what Beau had been trying to prove with his little scheme, getting me to attack him just because he had the crazy thought that he wouldn’t be harmed. Even if it had worked, how would that have helped him? Mickey had said he wanted me there as a character witness of sorts, and what sort of idiot wants a short-tempered lunatic speaking to the decency of his character? It made no sense, hauling me up to the stage just to piss me off and make me look like an asshole. I was sure all the vampires who’d been willing to fork over money had withdrawn their by now, seeing Beau as a delusional moron. Bringing me along had surely done more harm than good—not only to his campaign, but to his physical well-being too. “You’re an idiot,” I said as we pulled up outside Central. Beau’s lip quirked and he turned to meet my gaze. I swallowed the butterflies his eyes stirred up, and got up to duck-walk to the nearest limo door, doing my best to avoid all with him. “Are you suggesting campaign slogans?” Beau joked. “You’ll be the first honest politician,” I said as I climbed out, before leaning back in to finish insulting him. “Beau Romanov: delusional moron.” Instead of protesting, he just locked his eyes on mine, holding my gaze with a power that had nothing to do with thralling and everything to do with a natural, inexplicable heat that I couldn’t, in that moment, control. I left without another word, fleeing him and hoping he never asked me for another favor.

11

I wanted to burn the outfit Scepter had gifted me, both because I was sure Beau had paid for it, and because I wanted no memory of the evening spent in the glamorous and infuriating vampire club. I didn’t, though, not only because I now knew from experience that I couldn’t, but also because I sort of hoped I could get some use out of it one day. My other jackets had been lost to me—at least temporarily—and the tuxedostyle coat could come in handy some time. The tights and bodysuit I was certain I’d never wear, but the coat could possibly be useful. The next morning, my new, weird outfit sitting forgotten in the laundry bin, I hit up the fridge. I hadn’t ended up eating after skipping dinner in favor of threatening Beau’s life, and my guts were angry. I was starving, maybe because I’d flamed out in the club, and maybe because I just hadn’t really eaten much the last few days. Depression and anxiety have a bad effect on my appetite when I’m not job hunting and being accused of arson. I was two-thirds through some tasty, salty mush that had collapsed after … three? days in the fridge when Ansel knocked on my door and called out good morning. Setting the bowl aside, I went to answer, hoping he wasn’t going to pull a Beau and smuggle me off to some werewolf fashion designer to ready me for the event that evening. “Morning,” I said, more suspicious than was really warranted. He ignored my tone. “Hey! You are awake. I just wanted to check to make sure we were still on for tonight.” “Yeah, we’re set. Why?” “You’ve just been in and out of here so often lately, I thought—”

“Have you been watching me?” I asked, uncertain and a little worried. Ansel had gone from being a ghost in his own home, never there and completely hands-off his only tenant, to being up in my business at least once a day. I considered him a friend, but this could have been veering off too far in the wrong direction. “No, nothing like that. The security company gives a rundown of all comingsand-goings. It’s not just you they notice; there have been plenty of people in and out, you know, for campaign stuff, and they note it all. Sorry. I didn’t mean—I can have them stop—” “No,” I shook my head, waving my hand and feeling bad for being worried about his intentions. He really was a genuinely good dude. “I shouldn’t have been … Sorry. There’s just a lot going on right now.” “That’s why I wanted to make sure you’re still okay with ing me. If you’ve got other things—” “I don’t. I won’t. I swear.” “You’ll be there?” “As long as you don’t make me wear four-hundred pounds of silk and tights, I’m in.” “I … That’s strangely specific. But, no, you’re fine, whatever you want to wear. I mean, look presentable, but you don’t have to dress up.” “I was just gonna wear this,” I said, gesturing to my ripped sweats, oversized sweatshirt, and one missing sock. “Is that not okay?” He laughed, shaking his head and lifting his arms in a “why not” gesture. “It’s exactly what I pictured, you’re golden.” “I wouldn’t do that to you. Or to the outside world. I’ll even brush my hair, I swear.” “Only if you’re feeling up to it,” he said, still grinning. I chuckled too, enjoying the moment. Silence rushed in, wrapping around us and whispering possibilities into our ears, changing the mood in an instant. My inexperience made the whispers somewhat hard to interpret, but I recognized the general theme, and I

was sure Ansel could hear the suggestions loud and clear. He’s attractive, I’m lonely, and we got along. It wasn’t a big leap from where we stood to where things could end up. Dropping his gaze, Ansel cleared his throat, his fresh smile dimpling the blush in his cheeks. After giving a good-natured chuckle, he took a few steps back, waved once, and turned and headed back toward the house. “Six?” he called without looking back. “Sure,” I said, watching him go, wondering if I was making a mistake. He hadn’t used the word “date” had he? I suddenly couldn’t , and the whole idea sent nervous butterflies flapping obnoxiously through my guts. Though, I consoled myself, perhaps my mushy meal was just bad and I wasn’t feeling any sort of emotions at all. “Gotta be it,” I insisted to no one.

I wore the clothes Ansel had bought me while I’d been recuperating in his guest room. I hadn’t had the clothes long enough to actually destroy them, so they were in good shape, and had the bonus of being my style. I could look decent without looking ridiculous like Beau would have insisted. We ran into each other halfway between my shack, set way back on his property, and the main house, pausing in front of each other as if we needed to introduce ourselves before continuing. “Nice,” Ansel said, gesturing to my choice in clothes. “No jacket?” I hesitated, certain the sudden tension in my smile would out me, and then shrugged. “Not tonight.” “You won’t get cold?” I snorted. “I don’t really get cold. I mean, maybe I would if I lived in the snow, but not here.” I jerked my head and he fell into step with me as I led us around to the front of the house. “Then why have a jacket at all?” “Um.” I considered, not sure I wanted to it I’d bought my original beat up, studded, black leather jacket because it had a certain aesthetic I aspired to. Finally, I settled on part of the whole truth. “More pockets. Plus, it’s decent coverage if someone pisses me off enough that I end up without anything else on.” “I know the feeling,” Ansel said, chuckling to himself. I glanced up at him, forced my eyes to remain on his face and not sink lower to his muscular body— which I had never meant to see naked, I swear. “You do?” “Oh yeah, around the full moon, especially the younger or older you are, the more intense the emotions. There’s been a night or two where I wolfed out before meaning to and without proper planning and woke up in some forest, naked and unsure what the hell had gone on the night before.”

“Hunh,” I grunted thoughtfully. My experience with the werewolf world was limited, as they didn’t come up on my radar that much. Better known—and better paid—bounty hunters got sent after them occasionally, but usually they were too busy being rich and elite to draw the attention of the law. Or, at least, draw it quick enough that a lawyer and someone’s rich parents couldn’t get in there first. “I’ve never had that particular issue, but I’ve definitely had to scurry back to my car mostly naked and hope no one was taking pictures.” “I guess that’s where my predicament wins out,” Ansel said, opening the car door for me like a damned gentleman. “Way fewer cell phones in the forest during sunrise.”

The hunting lodge was exactly what it should be. Massive and wooden, with a sprawling forest beyond the back, it boasted smoke billowing out of several chimneys and older, bespectacled, bearded werewolves puffing on pipes around the entrance. I was grinning by the time Ansel and I stepped out and the valet hustled over to him to exchange ticket for key. “This is great,” I said as Ansel led me inside, nodding to the doorman who looked just a little too alert to be the casual visitor he seemed to want to appear to be. Plus, he stood out like a sore thumb, not being a werewolf and all. I was assuming earth elemental, if he was some sort of security, as the rest of us wouldn’t have had much luck taking a hit if it came to that. “You come here often?” “Used to, as a kid, before—um, with my parents.” “Did you hunt?” I asked, hoping to change the subject from his murdered family. “Well, yeah, that’s what you do for the full moon.” “Oh.” I paused in the foyer, both because the inside was just as perfect as the outside, and because the revelation of Ansel’s ission really hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t actually been thinking about the implications of the question. Not everyone did, surely. Some people belonged to country clubs and didn’t golf or play tennis. “You … hunt.” “Yeah, what did you think I meant?” “I … don’t know,” I itted. “I think I was picturing … like … some stuffy old dudes with hats and pipes, riding horses through the forest after grouse—not that I’m even sure what a grouse is—yelling, ‘pip-pip’ and ‘tally-ho,’ before going back to sit around the fire and sip brandy. Maybe then they order around some lowly servants or get a shoe-shine to really round the night out.” “I can’t say there isn’t any of that,” Ansel said, tucking his arm behind me and steering me off toward a long, dark wood hallway lined with pictures of werewolves posed next to what I assumed to be their kills. I winced at the sight of dead animals gutted viciously and splayed out like they had never once been frolicking free through the sun-dappled forest, and decided I didn’t have to look

anymore if I didn’t want to. And I definitely didn’t want to. “But mostly the place was built as a starting point for full moon hunts. There are a bunch of lodges, but this is pretty centrally located and has the best event menu.” “There’s gonna be food?” I asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole idea for a whole different reason than when I’d been at the vampire club. “Sure, but you don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry. It’s buffet-style, real casual. I’m mainly just meeting people, answering questions, and officially kicking off my campaign, you know, making the announcement and throwing my hat in the ring, all that.” “The food … Was it …” Deciding that asking where the food had come from— specifically if the werewolves working in the kitchen had run out to strangle unsuspecting bunnies or stab baby deer—was a useless question and didn’t matter, I shook my head. “Never mind.” “Something wrong?” “No,” I said, trying to get hold of myself. Somehow, despite knowing on some level that Ansel was a man who was forced, once a month, to turn into a wolf and tear through the forest on a blood-fueled rampage, seeing proof of what his kind did had thrown me. It wasn’t relevant, I reminded myself. He was a good dude, one I like being around and one I’d offered to help. Did it matter that he might have eaten a terrified rabbit whole once or twice? It shouldn’t. It didn’t, I told myself firmly, taking a breath and looking around the room we’d just entered, letting my anxiety roll off the what-if-Ansel-is-a-killer path and onto the social-anxiety path. “Much better,” I mumbled to myself, feeling my heart thud at the idea that I’d agreed—willingly and knowingly!—to not only come to an event full of werewolves but to be nice to them all. The last time I’d done that, I’d lit some dude’s head on fire. “Shit.”

It wasn’t as bad as my anxious mind spent the first hour of the event insisting it would be. I settled down quickly, since everyone was nice, I didn’t accidentally set anyone on fire, and Ansel treated me like a friend and not—as Beau had— like a prop. We were standing out on the balcony, Ansel speaking animatedly with some woman whose name I hadn’t caught, when another werewolf slipped in next to me. I smiled politely at him, figuring he was waiting to get in on whatever Ansel was saying, but realized after a moment he only had eyes for me. I turned to face him full on, keeping the smile on, though I’m sure it had tightened from easy and polite to suspicious and combative. “Hi,” I said. He leaned back against the railing, spreading his arms out to rest his elbows on the treated wood, all casual and superior. “Hello,” he said, making me hate him instantly. Something in his tone was just off and I couldn’t place it. He reminded me of a vampire, if only in his arrogance. “I hear you’re Ansel’s golden girl.” “I’m no one’s anything. I’m here as a favor to a friend, that’s all.” “Oh, so you’re not together?” he asked, and the grin splitting his lips warped from prideful to lustful. “Nope, he’s a free man. Have at him, buddy,” I said, gesturing to Ansel, and turning to tap him on the shoulder. “Hey, pal. This fine man has some questions about your love life. I’m gonna hit the head.” Ansel, lost and startled by the change in subject, just grinned, stammered a bit, and then nodded at me. I spun without another word, making my way inside, hoping to hide in the nearest ladies room until the creep outside took the hint and disappeared. I weaved through the hunting lodge, finding the rest of it more enticing than the hall lined with pictures of dead animals. It was homey and warm, with no shortage of massive fireplaces, comfy chairs, and open bars. The werewolves present had grouped themselves by age for the most part, the elderly hanging together, gruffly discussing the state of the world, while the younger ones drank, ignored each other for their phones, or raucously bragged over their latest

accomplishments in business or—and I use the word loosely—love. I found a bathroom off one of the sitting rooms, deemed it marked for my gender, and pushed in, hoping for somewhere to sit that wasn’t a toilet. I found a lavish sitting room outside the stall area, which seemed weird considering there had been a room outside that was nearly identical, but I went with it. At least here it was limited by gender, so there were half as many people who might try to chat me up. I mumbled a pleased affirmative when I saw the couch against the far wall, and moved to drop into it. A toilet flushed, drawing my attention up to the narrow doorway between the sitting room and the row of sinks and mirrors. Angling myself away, hoping anyone there would just pretend I didn’t exist, I tried to remain still and uninteresting. “Sophia?” I turned at the familiar voice and found Loretta grinning my way. “Oh, hey.” “What’re you doing here?” “Just … hiding,” I itted, before chuckling. Loretta grinned, moving to the bank of sinks. “Not really your scene, huh?” “No. Not … so much.” “Are you having fun out there, at least?” “Um. It’s not not-fun. I just don’t really know why I’m here.” She spun to face me, lifting damp hands in an exaggerated display of shock. “You mean he didn’t invite you because of your sparkling wit and well-known status as the life of the party?” I snorted, shaking my head. Loretta winked and moved to grab one of the plush hand towels from the stack. She was quiet as she dried up, but spoke as she moved back to the mirror to touch up her makeup and hair. “He likes you.”

“Who?” I asked, thinking immediately of the bozo who’d tried to flirt with me outside. “He thinks he does, anyway,” she continued, ignoring my question. “Not that you’re not worth liking, but it may just be that you sort of saved him from himself.” “Ansel?” I asked, horrified, pushing to my feet without really meaning to. “He doesn’t like me.” “He does, but like I said, I wouldn’t trust it.” “I don’t—” “It happens to me all the time,” she said with a sigh. Wrinkling my nose at the idea of beautiful, blonde, put-together Loretta comparing herself to me, I shook my head. “I don’t think—” “Men are idiots,” she said matter-of-factly, before pressing her lips together to augment or adjust her lipstick, whatever it was women were trying to accomplish after spackling their mouths in color. “Easily drawn to any woman who seems to have the power to save them from themselves.” “That’s not me,” I insisted, shifting my footing. I wanted to be done with this conversation for so many reasons. “Ansel and I are just friends.” “I know, and I’m certain you’ll remain as such.” She grinned at me in the mirror, before reaching into her bag for some other tube. “Again, I mean no disrespect. You’re quite pretty and definitely the type of woman many men would swoon for, but Ansel’s got his reputation to think about, especially now. I’m just making sure you’re not confused by the attention he’s showing you.” “Believe me, sister, I’m not.” Despite what she was saying, I didn’t get the idea she was messing with me or trying to make me feel bad. I assumed she, like me, just didn’t like the idea of Ansel falling for me, even if it was just temporary and based in delusion. He was too good for the likes of me. “I don’t—we’re just friends. And, besides, I’m probably going to be moving out soon.”

“So you’ve seen the writing on the wall?” Loretta asked, finishing up her work, and standing straight to watch me in the mirror. I nodded once and we locked eyes in silence for a bit. Time stretched, leaving us the opportunity to speak but we didn’t take it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she smiled warmly and spun to face me. “I knew you weren’t an idiot. Despite what people say about you.” Wincing, dropping my gaze to the ground I considered for a moment if I should be insulted. Deciding she wasn’t being a bitch, but just stating facts, I looked up and shrugged loosely. “Thanks?” “Come on,” she said with a grin, strutting over to me in her expensive heels to wrap an arm around my shoulders and lead me toward the door. “I’ll make sure you get home before your bedtime.”

12

The event wrapped up about an hour later, though I tried a few times to sneak out early. Ansel insisted I should just wait, that it wouldn’t be much longer, that I didn’t need to pay for a ride home because he’d drive me, and every other excuse he could come up with. Finally I relented, figuring that at least I could graze at the buffet until the end of the evening, or hide in the bathroom again. It didn’t end up being necessary, thank the goddess, and Ansel and I headed out to wait for the valet. He was jazzed, excited for the future, thankful I’d accompanied him, and eager to get started with knocking on doors and meeting people. His enthusiasm was infectious, even though I wasn’t entirely sure about his chances of winning. The Magistrate position had always been occupied by go-getters, politician types with smooth speeches and shiny shoes. Ansel was just a dude trying to do the right thing. Call me cynical, but voters don’t ever want the nice guy. “Thank you so much for coming with me,” Ansel said for the third or fourth time that night. I shrugged, fighting the blush that suddenly wanted to bloom across my cheeks. “Yeah, no problem. You—I’m—good luck, buddy.” Suddenly feeling awkward and apprehensive about what Lorretta had suggested, I slugged Ansel hard in the arm, needing to release some of the tension that wanted to build between us. Ansel’s brow wrinkled in amused confusion and he shifted his stance slightly closer. “What’s wrong?” “Nope,” I said. “I mean, nothing. Just … I’m not used to those sort of … Any of it, actually. This place is real fancy, and the food’s expensive, and the bathrooms have couches. I just feel out of place.”

“You shouldn’t,” Ansel said, his grin softening. I realized he hadn’t moved away while I’d spoken and he was still close, smiling down at me in the darkness as we waited for the valet to bring his car around. My heart thudded rapidly, Ansel laughed, suddenly uncomfortable and unsure, and sirens bloomed around us. Squinting at the sudden explosion of sound and lights, I turned to face the commotion, though Ansel moved to put himself between me and the chaos. I frowned at his back and stepped deliberately out from behind him so I could see what was happening. “Sophia Wagner?” a voice boomed from within the cluster of cop cars. “You’re under arrest for murder, attempted murder, and arson. Remain where you are.” “What?” I demanded, certain I’d misheard the nearly garbled voices of the cops. Two rushed me from behind, grabbing my arms, throwing me to the ground, and slapping enchanted cuffs on my wrists before my shocked and outraged flame had a chance to spark. “This is a mistake!” Ansel insisted, grabbing for me. The cops—two werewolves themselves, from the feel of their grip—kept him at bay easily, warning him to back off or face consequences. I was hauled to my feet, dragged toward the cars, and stuffed inside one while Ansel yelled to me from his place under the covered car park. “I’ll fix this! Don’t worry, Sophia, I’ll take care of you!” I jolted as the car door was slammed shut, staring at the back of the seat with blind eyes. Shock had taken over, flattening my emotions with confusion and panic. This had to be a mistake, I told myself, over and over. A mistake. “This has to be a mistake,” I whispered when saying it in my own head didn’t make me feel any better. “A mistake.”

The cops who hauled me in were nice, in that they didn’t try to speak to me or hassle me as we drove. I recognized one as someone I’d spoken with casually a few times and could see he knew me, too. He glanced back at me a few times, his expression mostly blank, but there was a hint of pity there. I didn’t bother trying to explain myself, both because I knew from being on the other end of it that it wouldn’t matter, and because I just didn’t have the words. I’d hauled in tons of vampires who insisted they were innocent, and I’d even believed one or two; but it was my job to hand them off to someone else to make that determination, so no amount of wailing was going to change the law. I let them lead me inside Central, wondering if they’d put me with the others in a main holding cell, or if they’d actually stick me in some sort of solitary confinement because of my history and the nature of the accusation against me. In the end, it was neither, and I found myself staring at Catherine as she blocked the officers from entering the night precinct. “I’ll take her.” The cops didn’t argue, likely trusting that someone with Catherine’s experience and power could handle me if it came to that. I probably wouldn’t have questioned her, either. Not only could she put out any flames I conjured, but if I tried to run, she could slap a ball of water around my head and cut me off from breathing. That would absolutely stop me from running out to the street to flee into the night. I mean, she probably wouldn’t have, but she could have. She led me back through the bowels of Central, through halls I didn’t normally see and up a back staircase I didn’t recognize and stayed silent while she did. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me, but I was suddenly very hopeful that Ansel had really meant it when he’d said he’d fix things. I had no idea what was going on and figured a lawyer would have been real handy right about then. We came out on Catherine’s floor, near her office, and she led me inside, gesturing to the visitors’ chair and shutting the door as I sat. Silently, she moved around her desk, took a deliberate seat, rested her forearms and linked hands on the desk, and met my eyes.

“Long day?” she asked. I frowned, collapsing into a wail of distress that went on for way longer than I meant it to. She let me complain wordlessly for a bit but when I went quiet she let out a small laugh. “I guess you really aren’t dating the Magistrate.” “I told you!” I said, suddenly distracted from my current predicament by the less dire one from the past. “We’re friends! In that … stupid way fire elementals and vampires even can be friends.” “So.” She cleared her throat, held my eye for a pregnant moment, and then lifted a brow. “Do you the charges against you?” “Murder, arson.” I paused, realizing there had been a third. “Attempted murder? How does—what even—how would that work? With me, I mean.” “You’re saying you're innocent?” I thought of Big Plates, considered that Pete may have risked his insurance payout to rat me out and cleared my throat delicately. “Well. The only times I’ve ever killed, it’s been sanctioned and confirmed by you guys. If there wasn’t a bounty on someone’s head, I did them no—um. Well, not no harm, but not enough for it to really matter. Even Benji! That asshole broke my nose and killed a bunch of cops and I only set him on fire a little.” “So you don’t deny the arson?” “I don’t know which …” I trailed off, realizing I might be incriminating myself. “I mean. Look. Hazard of the gig, right? You set shit on fire. I don’t know what I supposedly burned down but I guarantee I never meant any harm.” “A woman named Penelope—” “That bitch!” I growled before Catherine could even finish. “I didn’t burn shit down! She set her own place on fire, blamed me, endangered the lives of some kids, and stole my coat!” “She … stole your coat?” Catherine asked, frowning. “Why … Wait. So you were there?” “Yes!” Clearing my throat, again realizing I really needed to start watching what

I was itting to, I shook my head. “Look, I needed a job. Scratch said Cup Off was hiring, so I went to check it out. That asshole—Penelope’s the asshole. I mean, Itch can be a bit of a dick, but—anyway. She told me she’d hire me, but that she didn’t want any paperwork until she was sure I could make a damn cup of coffee. I’d made a whole bunch of coffees and then she went into the back, shut the door, took my nice coat, and set the place on fire. I tried to rescue her, but couldn’t! Figuring I didn’t want to be blamed for burning a building down that I didn’t actually destroy, I left!” “There were reports of a fire elemental leaving the scene, but no identification could be made.” “So why assume it was me?” “She says a fire elemental caused the fire. You just itted that elemental was you.” “No!” Shit. “I mean—I mean why—okay. Why assume I set the fire?” “Sophia, you were on fire when you left.” I frowned at her, my face wrinkled up into a stymied, angry scowl. After a bit, I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t … I can’t justify leaving. I should have called someone. Probably. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t burn—the kids!” “What kids?” “The kids! There were kids! Shitty teenagers who ordered shitty coffees and left right before the place really went up! They’ll tell you! I wasn’t back there. I was up front, pissed at Beau.” “Did you get their names? Addresses?” “I didn’t ask. I just yelled out their orders as I made them. I could tell you what they got. Maybe.” I considered. “Some mocha garbage with too much whipped cream and syrup that tastes like ass.” “That’s helpful,” Catherine said flatly. I jerked at my cuffs, forgetting briefly that I had them on as I tried to scrub my

hands over my face. Swearing, yanking at them again, I flailed, frustrated by the binding magic but also glad on some level that I didn’t currently have the ability to burn the place down like my power wanted me to. I considered my predicament, fighting the swirling rage in my mind, trying to let the logical side of my brain take over. No easy task on a good day, but this was no good day. “I don’t have a defense. If you can’t find the kids as witnesses and there’s no way to prove it wasn’t my fire. I don’t have any defense. But I didn’t burn down that coffee shop.” “And the murder?” I’d forgotten about that little gem. I didn’t have a response or a defense there, either. I wasn’t even sure what she could be talking about. I looked up, meeting her gaze and shrugging. She continued. “A few years ago you went after a bounty, brought in proof of immolation along with his ID and samples. I don’t know if you’d the name, but you might the case. He was a bad guy, real piece of work. He was pretty new, too young to envenom his victims, too young to thrall. It’s how the kids he attacked were able to so clearly identify him and why an immediate kill order was put out. There was no second chance fo—” The name sprang to mind, lighting up every neuron in my brain and making me snap straight, realization going off like fireworks. “Gerald Lowe! Fucking Gerry!” “You do him?” “I wouldn’t, not if there hadn’t been a lot of talk about him on the streets lately. Including some asshole, baby vamp who accused me of trying to kill him. Well, I didn’t just try to kill him, I did kill him. But it was under bounty! It was all legal, up-and-up!” “I would have been,” Catherine said, pity swimming through her eyes as she leaned in to hold my gaze intently. “If you hadn’t killed the wrong man.”

I didn’t have the chance to rebut the allegation, not before Ansel’s high-powered lawyer had me hauled out of there and ordered me to shut my damned mouth. I sat, still cuffed on a bench in the hall, listening to the murmur of voices in the office, though I couldn’t clearly hear what was being said. Despite the intensity the lawyer had shown up with, he seemed calm now, locked in Catherine’s office. Maybe they weren’t discussing me at all, I thought. Maybe they’d moved on to discussing movies or the guy had asked Catherine out on a date and they were deciding on a restaurant. It didn’t matter, I thought. Not only did they think I’d burned down Penelope’s shop, they thought I was a murderer. I wasn’t, I told myself. I hadn’t. I’d never hurt anyone who hadn’t deserved it in some way. Sure, I’d burned Beau the night before, but he’d been baiting me. He’d wanted me to burn him. That didn’t count. Apparently something else had, though: a death I’d carried out thinking I was doing the right thing when, in fact, it had been very, very wrong. The door opened, the slick lawyer stepped out, smiled at me, and stepped to the side so Catherine could follow. She smiled as well, but it was tight, nervous, apologetic, even. I frowned up at her, not sure what was going on but not liking it. “Sophia, you’ve made bail,” the lawyer said. “Already?” I asked, suspicious. “Don’t I have to meet a judge or something?” “It’s been taken care of,” the lawyer said, his smile making me think he expected me to be impressed. I didn’t budge away from suspicious, not for a second. I wanted to leave, though, and they were giving me the opportunity. Pushing to my feet, I twisted slightly, aiming my cuffed hands toward Catherine. “Well, then let’s get on with it.” “There’s a catch,” Catherine said, glancing beyond me to the man approaching from the elevator. I recognized the device he was holding and realized instantly what was about to happen. “You’ll be monitored and your powers will be stifled.”

“Fuck,” I breathed, bothered less by the idea of not having my powers than by the insult of having them taken away in the first place. I wasn’t going to kill anyone else, damnit. Within moments, my own plans didn’t matter. The cop had fixed the ankle bracelet into place, switched it on, and the wards laid into it had stripped me of my fire.

Ansel was waiting outside, looking eager and worried. The lawyer handed me off with few words, took a call that he made seem much more interesting and important, and fled. I stared stubbornly at Ansel’s feet, ashamed of my predicament and angry at my own impotence. He didn’t push, didn’t question me, or ask what was wrong. We just stood in silence in the dark, outside Central, with a fine breeze blowing around us. Finally, forcing myself to act, I looked up, met his eyes, and swallowed a lump before I spoke. “Bet you’re really regretting showing me off at your club now.” Ansel grinned, shaking his head, and gesturing to his car across the street. “We’ll get this cleared up in no time. You’ll see. Stewart’s the best lawyer in the city.” “I shouldn’t need a lawyer,” I said, falling into step with Ansel. “I’m innocent.” “I believe you.” “Why?” I asked, before shaking my head and holding up my hand. “No, it doesn’t matter. I just—I need to get this figured out. I need to track down this asshole I supposedly killed—or, that I thought I killed, whatever—and make him explain what the fuck’s going on.” “You think a vampire’s behind this?” Ansel asked, opening the enger door for me, meeting my eyes with concern. “Someone falsely accusing you because you’re a bounty hunter?” “I hadn’t actually considered a why,” I itted, sliding in. I waited until he was in and the car was on to continue. “I just figured someone’s out to get me and I want to tell them to fuck off.” “I don’t think that alone would fix anything.” “Maybe it would if I still had my powers,” I growled, lifting my hand to stare at my palm, to watch it remain mere flesh, despite the anger roiling inside me. Sighing, trying to control myself away from the edge, sure it wouldn’t end well even if I couldn’t actually burn the car down, I fisted my hand, pounding it against my thigh once in anger.

“Hey,” Ansel said, reaching out to grab my hand, holding it in his strong grip. “We’ll work this out. You’ve dealt with worse problems. This too will .” “Like bad gas,” I mumbled, thinking of something Scratchy had said once. The idea of him warmed my heart slightly: his dumb, lopsided face, so sure he was on the path to glory and riches, all because he’d gotten a girlfriend whose name he couldn’t . Scratchy knew—hopefully—where this Gerry asshole was hanging out. And if he didn’t, someone in the Underground would. Someone would be able to steer me toward the shithead who’d sullied my name and gotten me stripped of my powers. First thing in the morning, I’d head down there, rustle up some junkies, and go hunting.

13

Ansel didn’t want to leave me alone, but I convinced him, using self-pity to drive him off. I needed time to think, I claimed, to rest, to get my head on straight. No, I didn’t need food, or companionship, or to talk. I needed my alone time and some sleep. Yes, I’d see him in the morning, yes we could work on a plan then. I felt bad lying to the guy, especially after he’d saved me from jail, but he couldn’t be party to what I was about to do. He’d spent enough time in the Underground already and he had his own life to worry about. Plus, he probably would have tried to stop me if he figured out the methods I was going to use to convince any reticent addicts to along the information I needed. I couldn’t actually conjure fire anymore, but they didn’t know that. I slept restlessly, hardly at all at first. My shack isn’t quite the run-down hovel I make it sound like, but I do think it was built as some sort of multi-room gardener’s tool shed. It wasn’t a guest house, by any means, but werewolves love to throw money at things so it was basic in the fanciest way possible. As a result, it still creaked and groaned here and there and its every sound woke me. Until they didn’t. I fell asleep and knew I was asleep, but that didn’t mean awareness. There was dark and there was nothing, but there was still something. Something there in the dark, in the nothing with me. I wasn’t alone and somehow part of me knew I never had been. “I’m not gone,” a voice said. It was my own, but more sure, more measured, confident in a way I’m not. I’m fearless in a reckless, dangerous way, but that comes from hating my past, from … not really caring if I live or die. It comes from needing to push people away so I don’t hurt them. Not caring is not the same as confidence but it’s a useful stand-in.

“I didn’t know you were there in the first place,” I answered, really feeling the dark like it was holding me safe from whatever was in there with me. “You knew. You could feel me, like a tickle at the back of your skull. Hell, you use me. I’m a warm pillow you scream into for comfort.” “I don’t know …” I couldn’t lie. I did know what that meant, even if only emotionally. “If you’re not gone, where are you?” “It depends on what stories you believe, which myths. Where does a power of my stature reside? The belly, the chest, the throat.” As the voice spoke, I could feel those parts of me warm up, pleasantly like moving out of the shade into the blazing sun. “I’m everywhere, really. There isn’t any part of you that isn’t me.” “Now you’ve lost me.” “No, you’ve lost me, but like I said, not for good. You just need motivation to find me. Then we can have some fun.” Despite the heat at my front, cold streaked down my spine. “What do you mean fun?” “Motivation,” the voice said, ignoring my question. The voice got quiet, low, right up against my ear as if it had moved in close. “And then the fun begins.”

I woke panicked, still in the dark, but alone in my bed. I didn’t know what I dreamt, but a vague sense of dread had escaped the dream with me. I couldn’t anything that had startled me awake, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I grabbed my phone, stared at the early hour, and decided I’d slept enough. I needed to be out there, staying busy, not in here … stressing. I had to go and nothing was going to stop me. My pants hid the ankle monitor, an old sweatshirt I never wore hid the cuffmarks, and the early hour hid my exit from the property. I drove as silent and slow as an old lady until I was several blocks away, worried Ansel was going to come chugging up the street barefoot, chasing me down and dragging me back to his kitchen to talk about my feelings. But, it never happened. “Thank god,” I mumbled, taking the exit into the Underground. I parked in more or less the same spot I’d had the last time I’d been skulking around, hoping I could find Scratchy nearby. I knew better than to count on such luck though, if only because he was sort of like an elephant. Despite his ungainly body and his drug addiction, he would wander great distances in a day. Never did learn quite why, mainly because he’d lose track of his own explanation any time I bothered asking. I combed the streets, chatting with anyone who recognized me and had helped me in the past, learning very little that I found useful. Sure, several people had heard of Gerry; no, none of them could tell me where to find him. Yeah, everyone had heard I’d been the one to kill him; no, no one knew where he’d been hiding out or why he’d decided to show up again now. And, most importantly, no, I could not find a single person who knew anything about this other person I’d supposedly, mistakenly killed instead. That was a plus, at least. The Underground sort of considered me one of its own, sneering when I’d mentioned cops and being arrested, agreeing without provocation that I was being set up. Yeah, I’d been bothering the citizens who skulked below ground, but apparently never to the point of being unreasonable. And, there was the fact that often I was easily conned into buying meals or drinks for those I shook up, and nothing endears one person to another like free treats.

An hour into my hunt, I was feeling a little better about myself, if not about my situation. Sure, none of these unwashed weirdos could help me find Gerry or Scratchy or anyone who could steer me toward a solution, but I did learn I’m slightly less of an asshole than I had assumed. I was leaving Confessional—a bar that got away with serving alcohol twentyfour hours a day by being tucked into a particularly gnarly corner of the Underground and threatening violence on anyone who draws the attention of the law—when someone familiar rolled up. “Hey, bitch.” I recognized the voice before I’d even turned to see who was insulting me; I watched the baby addict vampire sidle closer, posturing wildly as if she might make me run just by the way she flailed her skinny arms. “That’s That Bitch to you, asshole,” I said, though I’d already decided I didn’t want to deal with her. “Scoot along, kid. I’ve got other business to attend to.” “You ain’t attending shit!” she insisted, closing in fast enough that I knew in an instant I’d underestimated her age by a year or so. She still looked shiny and new, human to a fault, but she moved fast enough to have crossed the five-year mark. Her bite still wouldn’t do me much harm—past the piercing teeth, that is —and she couldn’t thrall me, but her strength and speed were going to require more attention than I’d initially figured. “Exactly,” I said, dancing back, slipping my hand into my pocket to pull out my collapsible baton and shake it out to full-size. “I’ve got no interest in any shit, which is why I’m trying to get the hell away from you.” She shoved me, but I’d been expecting some form of an attack and I was able to keep my balance, weave my body, and whack her squarely in the side of the kneecap. She hadn’t prepared for that, and before I knew it, she was on her side on the ground, cursing me loud enough to wake the neighbors. I hopped back out of her reach, sighing at her stupidity and wishing in the moment I had my powers, if only so I could properly scare the shit out of her. “I’m not here for a fight, you asshole,” I warned, twirling the baton once just to remind her I had it. “And you shouldn’t be either. I’m a fire elemental, you dumbass.”

“You’re a pussy!” she spat, getting to her feet and rushing me. “You won’t fight me ‘cuz you’re scared!” I don’t often need to use anything other than my fire to keep myself safe, but there have definitely been times. Not everything is bothered by fire, especially not if enough drugs have hit the scene, so I’d taught myself a bit of self-defense to deal with the people or creatures who came after me regardless of my flame. Baby vamp wasn’t expecting me to outmaneuver her and when she hit the pavement with her face, she let out a jumbled stream of sound that I could only assume was supposed to be another threat on my life. I backed up again, further out of her reach this time, noting we’d drawn a small crowd. “Stay down you dumb shit.” “Fuck you!” “Look,” I said, hoping maybe I could appeal to her as-of-yet unseen good side. “You’re a vampire, I’m a fire elemental. If I light you up, you won’t get back on your feet and keep coming, you hear? I don’t have your bounty slip, so that would get me accused of murder and, sister, I don’t need any more of that. So whaddya say you just point me toward where Gerry’s flopping, and we part ways with neither one of us setting the other on fire and laughing maniacally as her skinny ass screams and burns, yeah?” “I’ll gut you, bitch!” Baby vamp threatened, pushing to her feet in a surprisingly graceful move, though she stumbled when she tried to move toward me. “And then I’ll drink you right up!” “You’re an idiot,” I said, still backing up, no longer interested in dealing with this lunatic who was going to be about as much good to me as the junkies who hadn’t known shit about Gerry. “I’m sure one day I’ll be pulling your bounty, but you’d better hope I’ve forgotten about this by then.” I turned to walk away, deciding being bold and putting my back to her was a good intimidation tactic. My shoulders itched for half a block as I strolled away, though, and I was ready as a groom on his wedding night to spring into action if she came at me. She never did, though, and once I turned the corner I let out a relieved, cuss-filled sigh. Then, cutting me off mid-“damned, crazy asshole,” a hand snaked out of a dark

alleyway and yanked me in. The alley was dark and narrow, but I recognized the shape of the person standing in front of me, even with the cap pulled low over his eyes. Squinting up at Beau, even though I couldn’t clearly see his expression, I tried for a moment to hold in my annoyance, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, if only because he probably wasn’t there to arrest me and drag me back to Central. “This is how you’re spending your free time?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Picking fights with vampires in the Underground? Exasperated, I shoved him. He didn’t go anywhere, both because the alley was so narrow I could barely have stretched my arms out in front of me and because he’s stupidly strong. But it felt good. Patting my shoulder, he chuckled at my response, always thinking of my anger as funny, even when it meant to do him harm. “It’s good to see you too.” “I can’t see you, actually,” I growled, turning as if I’d leave him skulking in the shadows. He grabbed my arm and held me in place. “I wouldn’t go out there. Your friend is looking for you. I can hear her.” “Bully for you,” I snapped, trying to yank my arm out of his grip, even though I knew the attempt was futile. “I handled her before, I can handle her again.” “You shouldn’t have been handling her in the first place,” Beau said. “Not without your powers.” “I can hold my own against some asshole vampire, even without my fire. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Just judging my life choices?” “Always,” he said casually, making me bristle. “But specifically, at this moment, I wanted to speak to you.” “So call me on the phone.” “I tried, you didn’t answer.” “Try my home phone,” I said, grinning fiercely. “I’ll rush right over and pick up

and we’ll have a swell chat.” Still holding my arm as I tried to flee, probably because he knew I had no actual intention of doing as I claimed, Beau leaned in close and spoke. “This is serious.” “Yeah! I know! I’m the one with cuff marks on my wrists and a fucking firedampening anklet on! I’m the one whose life has fallen apart completely in the last week!” Beau let go of me as I let go of the rush of emotions I hadn’t even realized I was holding back. “My best friend died; I lost my job because I stopped some asshole from doing what I get paid to do; I accidentally burned down a diner; I lost both my jackets; I’m living with a werewolf who has a crush on me; I’ve been accused of a murder I know I didn’t commit; some bitch is claiming I burned down her coffee shop; and now this asshole junkie bloodsucker slag keeps coming after me every time I’m down in the only place I really feel like I even belong these days! You don’t have to fucking tell me that this shit is serious!” I took a deep breath, held it until I felt like my chest might burst, and let it out with a whoosh of hot air that I was sure would have been flame if my powers weren’t being squashed by wards. Beau watched me silently, his expression a mystery, and reached behind him to grab a bag I hadn’t realized he had slung over his shoulder. “I brought you something to make you feel a little better.” “Proof of my innocence?” I asked. “Proof of who you are, actually.” “What do you mean?” Beau opened the flap on the bag, pulling out a hunk of leather that was scarred and studded, but still had that slight shine to it that I recognized from years of use. He held it up by the shoulders and, even without direct light from the lamps out on the street, I knew exactly what it was. “My jacket!” Grinning, yanking off the hoodie, I let him hold my old coat for me as I slipped into it, sighing at the weight of it. This jacket was heavier, bulkier, less warded than the jacket Ansel had bought me, but it was mine. I’d paid for it,

gotten shot in it, used it to awkwardly and incompletely cover my nakedness more times than I could count. It had seen me into the bowels of Mezzeluna and been kept from me after the place had burned to the ground. “You’re out of sorts lately,” Beau said quietly as I wiggled my shoulders, enjoying the familiar feel of the thing. “Perhaps it was losing Joey, perhaps it was just the stress that came with the aftermath of solving his murder. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I can see that you’re having a hard time and that it’s getting to you. So, I figured this might help.” “I thought this was stuck in some evidence locker for the rest of eternity,” I said, grinning up at him, feeling truly touched in a way I hadn’t thought Beau was actually capable of causing. “I pulled some strings,” he said quietly, as if not wanting to it to something improper. We stared at each other in the dark, alone, in a world of our own that somehow excluded the drunken yells from addicts out in the street and the sinkholes beyond. Usually so poised and sure of himself, Beau swallowed, as if nervous, and a rush of affection went through me, not only because of the jacket, but because of all that had gone on between us since we’d met. He was mostly a smug asshole, but he’d helped me find Joey’s killer, gotten me my license back, stuck by me even through all the vicious insults I’d spat his way, and now gotten me my jacket out of some locker in Central. Without thinking about it or questioning it, I dropped the hoodie onto the dirty pavement, reached up to hook a hand around Beau’s neck, and pulled him down into a kiss. Like the last time we kissed, it was a flood of heat, hormones, and mindless desire. Unlike in our day-to-day interactions, he wasn’t pushy or demanding. His arms came around me sweetly, hugging me to him as he met my frantic kiss with his own gentle need. I pawed at him without really meaning to, caught up in all my damned emotions and hormones. I’d suffered an adulthood worth of never having the opportunity to really explore this side of myself, shoving people away through sarcasm and snark because I knew deep down what would happen if I allowed anyone to get close. Fire surged up inside me, warming my chest and spreading through my veins in a way I recognized but brainlessly assumed was impotent due to the anklet.

Driven by a physical need I couldn’t explain and wasn’t really sure how to deal with, I pressed on. Then, still lost to the other feelings burning me up, I felt the familiar tingle of flame roaring up through my throat, dancing along my tongue as it tangled with his. It was hungry, grabbing hold of his flesh, lighting up the inside of his mouth before either one of us realized what was happening. Beau jolted back so fast and hard he slammed against the grimy brick wall behind him, clawing at his throat. Flames—my damn flames, I knew, even though I wasn’t really sure I believed what I could feel—burned viciously, destroying the inside of his mouth, chewing down the back of his throat, and eating away his lips. I screamed as he collapsed to his knees, and both of us just sort of flailed for a moment before my intellect caught up, beat my hormones into submission, and explained what I had to do. My flames don’t respond to regular water, not usually and especially not when generated in times of great emotion. I knew from experience that, even if we’d been hanging out next to some beautiful, roaring fountain, that I could have dunked him under water and held him there and my fire would have kept killing him. Elemental water, however, is a damned good cure for a burning vampire. Unzipping my hip pack as fast as I could, cramming my hand inside and grabbing a handful of water talismans, I rushed to Beau, shoving the heel of my hand under his chin, dumping his head backward, and stuffing as many talismans into his gaping maw as I could manage. Water flooded, frigid as fuck, suffocating my flames and washing down my front and Beau’s, splashing noisily on the sticky cement, pooling around us as I yelled, “You’ll be okay! You’ll be okay!” One of the talismans is usually good to put out a small fire, but I wasn’t really sure how many I’d grabbed, or in what quantities they’d been created. My water guy, Ervin, was pretty powerful and knew how to make a damned effective water talisman, in small, medium, and large sizes. I paid good money for his stuff, and tried to keep them on me at all times because, as a fire elemental, it’s just good sense. Beau flailed, gurgling horrendously as I stood over him, my thighs pressed to his chest, my hand clapped over his mouth to keep the flames from spouting out and decimating the rest of his beautiful face. It wasn’t until he forcibly shoved me off

of him, knocking me against the opposite wall that I realized he was out. The only danger left, now that my fire had been quelled, was from me ostensibly trying to drown him. “Oh goddess,” I breathed, standing in immovable horror as he turned to the side, falling to his hands and knees and vomiting out elemental water and probably blood. “Oh shit! Are you—you’re not okay. Fuck. I can fix this!” Terrified, flailing, Beau turned to me, unable to speak, but able to hold up a hand to indicate that he didn’t want any more of my damned help. I winced, groaning as I took a hesitant step forward. He flailed his outstretched hand once to really drive home the point that I should stay where I was, and I cursed again. Dropping to my knees in the puddle around us, I tried to catch his eye in the dark, hoping my fire hadn’t reached far enough to ruin his eyes. “I really can help,” I said quietly. He was still for a long moment, his face hidden under the shadow of the ball cap as he considered the circumstances. I gave him some time, keeping as much distance as I was able in the narrow alley and then explained. “I know a healer, not too far from here. She’s good, and owes me a favor.” He jerked his head toward me, probably giving me a nasty look that I couldn’t see, and I grinned, trying to look happy and helpful. We stayed that way for a long moment before he sighed, jerked in pain and then heaved out a ragged breath that … almost had sound, like someone trying to whistle and not quite managing it. He sounded like a dying man and I realized it was worse than I’d assumed. “Please let me fix this,” I whispered, unable to keep the despair out of my voice. Memories of the worst part of my childhood were rushing in, clogging up my sanity and threatening to send me screaming into the night. I needed to help Beau or I wasn’t going to be able to live with myself. Thankfully, he nodded and let me help him to his feet.

14

Beau looked like the prettiest corpse you ever did see. My fire had eaten through his throat, rid him of his plump lips, left a gaping hole in the side of his neck, and burned through half his left cheek. But, his eyes, his goddamned gorgeous, expressive eyes, were intact. I couldn’t stop apologizing as we went. We didn’t have far to go, as Lola lived only three blocks down, and Beau moved like a champ. I spent most of the walk backwards, facing him, pleading desperately with him to forgive me, while doing my best to explain my side of things. “That shouldn’t have happened,” I insisted for the third time. He only glared, unable to respond except in airy, occasionally wheezy grunts. Apparently my fire had left some parts of his vocal chords intact and I could only assume his natural healing was trying to make things right, just not quick enough. “I mean, the whole thing. Not just the fire, you know? I mean that really shouldn’t have happened. Your people need to refresh their wards, just—just so you know. I mean, obviously. Clearly they’re not doing their jobs anymore. The wards, not the—well, maybe the people. But, even so, that shouldn’t have—but I mean, the kiss, even. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. But you—you—you brought me my jacket! And that was so sweet, and you’re—you know, damnit—sexy, and I just couldn’t help myself. You know? You stupid bastard! Why did you have to bring me a gift? damnit. But I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Beau listened to me ramble as we went, grunting with aggravated relief when we reached Lola’s dilapidated doorstep. I banged on the door, yelling over the sound of music and hoping she could hear me. I hadn’t needed her services in awhile, but I was pretty sure she still lived there. I didn’t want to it to Beau that I was shit out of luck if she’d moved. Lola opened the door, stared at me for a pregnant moment, slid her gaze calmly to Beau’s ravaged face, and then jerked her head to silently invite us inside.

Lola is a little person, maybe half my height, and has managed to fill her house with furniture befitting her stature. She didn’t make Beau sit in any of her small chairs, however; she silently grabbed a folding chair from the closet, set it in the middle of the living room, and gestured to it. Beau sat and set down his messenger bag, eyeballing me with an intent I couldn’t discern. His gaze flicked to Lola when she walked away instead of immediately beginning to heal him. She was gone for maybe a minute, before coming back with a first aid kid and a footstool, both of which she set in front of Beau. “What happened?” she asked, presumably directed at me. “Um,” I improvised, hesitant to explain exactly what had happened. After a short silence, she snorted, climbing up on the stool so she was standing between his knees. An annoyed frown flashed over her face before she yanked the ball cap off his head and tossed it to the side as if she found it offensive. Looking to me, waiting for an explanation, she leaned in and began unbuttoning his shirt, still ignoring him as if he was some sort of practice dummy and not a living person. “What’d you fuck up, Sophia?” “Damnit.” Snarling, I spun in a frustrated little circle, flailed my arms, and then closed in, perching on her couch. “Look, it’s been a bad month, okay? Joey got killed—” “I heard,” she interrupted, turning her attention back to Beau, looking intently at his chest, before pressing both her small hands to his skin, just below his collarbone. I hadn’t realized I’d damaged him that far down, and the realization made my stomach shrivel up a little further and try to cram itself down into my intestines, cramping everything as it went. I cleared my throat and continued. “Yeah, well, we stopped the assholes who did it, everything went to shit after. I lost my license and had to get a real job, which didn’t work out—don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t—well, it wasn’t all my fault. But after the job, Beau here got me my license back anyway, so I was just—and then I helped him with his campaign thing! That went poorly.” “And you punished him by burning his face off?” she asked. I shook my head, jumping to my feet to pace again. “No, sorry. That’s not—that

doesn’t matter.” “Then get on with it. Did he piss you off?” Catching Beau’s eye, Lola asked him, “Did you piss her off?” Beau tensed, sound leaking through his ruined face, but she just shook her head. “Don’t speak. Sophia, get on with it.” “I kissed him,” I blurted, feeling my shoulders tense at the ission. Lola was quiet, pausing, her gaze dropping to his chest, even though she’d moved up to working on his neck. She didn’t say anything for awhile, making my guilt twist harder in my guts, and when she finally did, there was a laugh in her voice. “What the hell made you do that?” “This!” I grabbed for my pant leg, yanking it up hard enough that I actually pulled my own leg out from under me and had to hop a step to keep upright. “It should have stopped anything from happening!” “And yet …” Lola said, trailing off, moving up to Beau’s face. The hole in his neck was healed, in record time, and we’d probably be out of there before long. I hoped she didn’t ask me about any payment, both because I wouldn’t have had any, and because it would have been embarrassing to learn I’d forgotten that maybe she’d already done me the favor I thought she owed me. It wouldn’t have been the first time. “What did you do to get accessorized?” she asked. “That’s part of the bad week, you see,” I said, moving back to perch on the sofa, as if I needed to be sitting to get things out. “They say I burned down a building —I didn’t!” Catching the look on her face, I pointed. “I didn’t! Some bitch— Cup Off? You been there? She found out what I am and she burned the place down and stole my fucking jacket. Then she ran to her insurance—and the cops, apparently, and told them I did it. Now I’m being charged with murder and attempted murder and fucking arson.” “Cops and insurance usually go hand in hand,” Lola said, before considering me silently for a moment. “Was there someone in there? When she burned the place down?”

“What? No. Just me. I thought she was too, but she’d already skedaddled out the back, jamming the door shut so … I don’t know, I couldn’t get out, maybe?” “Then why the murder rap?” “Oh, that’s old news.” Growling, rocketing to my feet with fresh rage over that, I paced to the far end of the attached dining room and then turned and stormed back. “I caught the bounty of some asshole named Gerry, I took him out, and now the cops are claiming I killed the wrong guy. Which doesn’t make any fucking sense, because that shit don’t happen!” “It don’t?” Lola asked, a note of amusement in her voice. I growled, feeling my temper pique, though no flames came this time. I didn’t stop to consider why they’d sprung up in Beau’s arms, but not now that I was detailing how I’d been accused of murder. “I took all the precautions! I got his ID, verified that it matched his stupid face, and took the proper samples both before and after immolation. I was new, I didn’t fucking chance it. I’ve never killed someone who didn’t deserve it, not even by accident.” “You did a number on your boyfriend here, though,” Lola said, leaning back. Beau’s face was whole again, and his gaze was very serious on mine. I swallowed wetly, tried for an encouraging smile. “How are you feeling?” I asked. “He still can’t talk.” Squatting, she reached into the first aid kit, shuffling around things I’d seen healers use here and there when wounds needed triage based on severity. She pulled out a bottle of something I couldn’t read, squirted some into her hands and started massaging. She was focused on Beau, but silent, considering him as if trying to solve a puzzle. When her hands were coated, she separated them, wiggled her fingers, and opened her mouth, and pointed to indicate Beau should mirror her. He did and I got a look at the blackened ruin there. He still had no tongue. “This is going to be weird,” Lola said, before shoving her whole hand into Beau’s mouth.

Beau was beautiful again, thanking Lola as he got to his feet and excused himself to the bathroom to clean up as best as he could. Lola told him she’d left an extra shirt in the bathroom for him, and encouraged him to change but he didn’t say one way or another if he would. Once we were alone, she folded up the chair, resting her elbow on it as she considered me. I gulped, worried she was going to demand payment or berate me for kissing a vampire. I chewed nervously on the inside of my cheek and, after an eternity, she jerked her chin at me. “This vampire, Gerry.” “Yeah?” “He that asshole who’s been strutting around the Underground, bragging to everyone who will listen that he pulled one over on some sour bitch elemental?” “Yes!” I jumped, waving my hands excitedly. “Where is he? You know where I can find him?” “Why, so you can do what you failed to do before?” “I didn’t fail shit! I killed the right vampire. This guy’s an imposter, and if I can just see his stupid face, I can tell him where he can shove his accusation.” “He’s not the one doing the accusing,” Beau said, stepping out of the hall. He’d shed his ruined shirt and was pulling on the one Lola had left him. He’d been dressed strangely when he’d come to find me—I’ve never seen him in jeans and a T-shirt before—but the one she’d left him looked even stupider. Lola eyeballed his impressive abs, gave a lazy, appreciative whistle, and waited until the oversized shirt fell into place. “Who’s after our girl?” she asked. “The mother of the man you—” Beau caught himself, paused, and finished. “The mother of the man you’re being accused of killing in Gerry’s place.” “And it’s just a coincidence that Gerry’s popped up right as this asshole is making claims about me? I don’t think so.”

“That is pretty convenient,” Lola agreed, before turning back to me. “If you promise not to kill him on sight, I can point you in Gerry’s direction.” “Yes!” “No,” Beau said, closing in. “Sophia, you can’t have anything to do with this, not with everything going on. Lola’s right, it is too convenient. Someone’s setting you up and you trampling around on the investigation will only dirty it up. You need to go back home and stay out of it.” “I’m not—” “Sophia,” he growled. Lola whistled, catching my eye and whispering, “Someone’s in trouble,” musically. “I knew you were going to do something stupid,” he said. “Why do you think I was following you in this ridiculous getup?” “To give me my jacket and get your face burned off, obviously,” I snapped, not really having a leg to stand on, but just not wanting to remain silent as he made an excellent point. “I knew you’d do something stupid,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Ansel got you a good lawyer, and I can keep tabs on things from the inside, but you have to do your part by staying the hell out of it.” “I can’t just sit around while some asshole accuses me of murder! I need to prove—” “You don’t need to prove anything. Those of us who know you know you’re innocent. You need to let the system work.” “The system doesn’t work!” I yelled, furious in an instant that he’d try to use this logic on someone being fucked in the eye by said system. “The system ignored the proof that I killed the right man, doesn’t give a shit that some thief bitch is accusing me of burning down a business that’s going to hand her a tidy insurance payout, and—and I don’t even know what this attempted murder bullshit is! Your system is fucked.”

Beau watched me intensely, his jaw set, his sunrise eyes blazing with golden anger, but he didn’t argue. Lola let us square off for a bit, before she moved to grab Beau’s bag. Holding it out to him, she looked him over. “You feel healed?” “Yes, much obliged. What do we owe you?” “Nothing,” she said, glancing at me. “Sophia’s a good girl, despite the temperament. She’s helped me out with a number of things.” “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” Beau said. “I don’t,” Lola said with a fierce grin. Then, turning to face me, catching my eye with an intensity I didn’t understand at first, she lost the grin. “It was good catching up. We’ll talk later?” “Sure,” I said, hoping I was interpreting her message correctly—and that there was a message at all and not just my hopeful imagination.

Beau and I were halfway to my car before either one of us spoke. I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten to the Underground, but I was hoping he didn’t expect me to give him a ride home. I wasn’t ready to go back and face Ansel and I really just wanted to be alone. Plus, if Lola was going to call me later and along Gerry’s info like I hoped, I couldn’t have him tagging along listening in on my private calls. “Does Lola disapprove of vampires?” Beau asked quietly, making me frown. “No, why?” “She seemed … displeased that you had kissed me.” “Oh.” I winced, realizing with a burst of chilling adrenaline that we were careening toward a conversation I really didn’t want to have. “That wasn’t, um, really about you.” “Do you two have a history, then?” I barked out a laugh at the idea, not only because Lola was pushing twice my age, but because I could barely get my shit together enough to be interested in one gender, let alone two. “No. Goddess, no. I don’t have history with anyone.” “You’ve said that before,” Beau said quietly, his gait taking him a little closer to me, our arms brushing. “I’ve always wondered if you’re being facetious.” “Why?” I asked, glaring up at him and rolling my shoulders as nerves crawled across them. “What do you care?” “Isn’t it obvious why I’d be curious?” Beau asked, grasping my elbow gently and turning me to face him, stopping us both in a pocket of shadow on the sidewalk. “There’s been something between us since we met, Sophia. I know you sense it. You’re so … hard to reach, though. You don’t open up.” “And I never will,” I said, yanking my arm out of his grip. I half expected him to hold on, but he let me go, his eyes boring into mine. I dropped my gaze, unable to meet his. “You should move on, find some nice vampire to pursue. I’m bad news.”

“Maybe I like bad news,” Beau said. “Did that occur to you?” “Of course it did!” I growled, squeezing my hands into fists, shaking my head even as I continued to stare terrified at the ground. I couldn’t look at his face, not after everything that had happened—and what might happen again if my hormones spoke up. “That’s why I nearly killed you!” “You’re not making any sense,” Beau said, tucking his fingers under my chin and lifting my gaze to his. I don’t know why I let him; maybe guilt, maybe curiosity over whether I could resist the temptation that came with looking into his eyes. “Were you … Were you angry that I kissed you? Did I take advantage of you in a weak moment by not pushing you away?” “Not everything is about you,” I spat, frustrated by his blindness—or perhaps by my own inability to just it what had really gone on. “It’s just about me, about my own issues and failings.” Beau dropped his arm to his side, smirking lightly. “Kissing me was a failure, was it?” “Of course it was,” I breathed, slouching into my own incompetence. “But not because of you. It’s me, I should have known better. I shouldn’t have trusted anyone else to keep me safe from my own power. I should have known what would happen—what’s always happened when I let myself get swept up in emotion.” In a fit of rage, I turned pounding the grimy brick wall of the building with the side of my fist. Beau darted close, grabbing my hand before I could hurt myself again, turning me to face him. “Sophia, emotion isn’t a liability.” “It is for me, don’t you see that? Did you learn nothing from what just happened? I can’t do this! I can’t have happiness, I don’t fall in love. That’s for other people. For good people, for people who haven’t killed their own parents!”

15

I turned and stalked away before I could see Beau’s reaction to my ission. It wasn’t accurate, not completely, what I’d claimed. I hadn’t actually killed them. But it had been my fault they’d died, my fire that had set off the chain of events that had left them dead. “What are you talking about?” Beau asked, following me, gliding closer on a wave of concern. “I’ve seen your file; your parents were the victims of fanatics, anti-elemental lunatics who killed dozens of innocent people.” “But they only went after my family because of what I did, because of my goddamned teenage hormones!” I whirled on him, shoving at him with both hands, even though it did no good and only bumped me back awkwardly with the recoil of my own elbows. “You want the story? You want to know what happened to the only other person who got close enough to me to maybe fall in love? I did to him what I did to you, only he wasn’t a vampire. He didn’t make it to a healer in the nick of time and he has to live with the scars I left him. His family retaliated, punishing me and my parents for me not being able to control my fire! Their names got out, my screw-up got out, and those fucking religious nut-jobs killed my parents. They would have killed me, if I hadn’t been out having a pity party all by myself. They should have killed me! But instead, here I am, facing off with you in this shithole neighborhood, watching my life— which wasn’t so grand to start with—fall apart.” Beau was quiet, watching me with tenderness I didn’t deserve and I wanted to slap it off his dumb face. Instead, I beat at him uselessly with my fists, just to get the rage out. I couldn’t flame out this time, couldn’t expend my rage in a fireball that would burn away the pain. So, I hit him, swearing and yelling, knowing he could take it. But, as I weakened and couldn’t continue, I realized that the surprising part of my tantrum was that he took it at all. He didn’t have to, not with his strength and speed. He could have forced me to

stop, holding my arms or throwing me to the ground. Hell, he could have called in an army of cops to arrest me for assault, thrown it on the steaming pile that was my record, and left me to rot in a cell for the rest of my days. Instead, he let me vent, let me rage, and let me beat him. Finally, frustrated, spent, and feeling worthless, I stopped, dropping my arms to my sides and staring blankly at his chest. He let the silence stretch on for a bit, before he spoke quietly. “I had no idea you had such trouble controlling your fire. I’ve met other fire elementals, even been involved with a few, but never have they been so … explosive.” I snorted out a bitter laugh, looking up to glare. “Thanks.” “I don’t mean it as an insult.” “Just as a reminder that I’m a freak, then? Poor Sophia, can’t hold her shit together enough to even kiss a boy without lighting his head on fire.” Beau didn’t comment or apologize. He just stayed quiet, his eyes locked to mine. We stood there for a long time, considering each other—or perhaps both just considering what a piece of shit I am. Finally, I shook my head, realizing most of the day had gone by, Ansel was probably worried sick, and I wanted to go home and hide under the covers. “Come on,” I said, turning to walk away. “Unless you’re staying here. I’m headed back to my car and if you need a ride, you should come along.” “I thought a ride was out of the question,” Beau said, his words an obvious double entendre. It took my mind a few beats to decide how to respond, but in the end I snorted. And laughed. And decided to forgive myself this once. Beau was fine, I would never risk another man’s health, and now Beau understood that I was off-limits. I still wanted to hide under the covers but perhaps now I’d only have to do so until Lola called with the information I needed to free myself from my legal hell.

Beau walked me to my car and left, saying he had some work to do. He promised to look into locating Gerry and getting him to talk, and made me promise I wouldn’t hunt him down and harass him. I did so, but crossed my fingers behind my thigh the whole time. It wasn’t that I specifically wanted to go hunt down Gerry and squeeze his dumb neck until he squealed, but that I wanted to allow myself the option of doing so. I had other avenues to pursue—including hunting down Penelope, getting my jacket back, and maybe squeezing her dumb neck instead—so Gerry wasn’t my only salvation. But damnit, if I didn’t want to make sure I could get to him if I needed to. I pulled up to the house to find a car I didn’t recognize at the top of the driveway, and wondered if Ansel had another campaign thing going on. The idea pleased me; I didn’t want him dropping his whole life just for me, not only because I’m not worth it, but because it would have implications I couldn’t handle— especially after what had just happened with Beau. I didn’t need another super powered, flammable dude trying to stuff his tongue down my throat. Apparently my throat can’t be trusted. I was parking the car when I saw Ansel jogging over, a worried look on his face. Guilt stabbed at me as I turned the car off and climbed out, turning to face him and grin sheepishly. Instead of asking where I’d been or demanding to know why I’d run off without him, he only watched me in silence for a beat, before gesturing back toward the house. “The lawyer’s here.” “My lawyer?” I asked, trying to if I’d even gotten the dude’s name. I was sure he’d mentioned it at some point, maybe to me, maybe just to Catherine, but I couldn’t recall. Ansel nodded, took a deep breath, and then frowned. “Did you see Beau?” “Umm.” I hesitated, swallowing thickly, wondering what he knew and whom he’d talked to. “Yeah. Why?”

“Oh, I—you just smell … kind of like him.” His gaze dropped to my shoulders and his frown deepened. “Is that your old jacket?” Clearing my throat roughly, I took an explosive few steps forward, desperate to change the subject. “It’s been a busy day. Come on, let’s go. Can’t keep—uh, the lawyer waiting.” “Stewart,” Ansel said, falling into step beside me, a smile in his voice. I glanced up at him, realized he could tell I had forgotten the guy’s name, and laughed quietly. Ansel chuckled too, and let the whole jacket subject drop.

Stewart was just as pompous as I ed him, but he was trying to save me from being jailed or killed, so I told myself I could deal with it. I probably wouldn’t lose my temper enough to set him on fire, anyway, so that was good. I mean, I wasn’t planning on making out with the guy or anything. “Sophia,” he said, getting to his feet as Ansel and I entered the great room from the far corner. I jerked my chin in greeting. “Stew, how you been?” “Busy,” he said, flicking his gaze to Ansel. “Did you tell her?” “That you’re here?” I said, hating it when men spoke around me like I wasn’t even there. “Yeah, I’m all caught up. Let’s move on. What’s the deal? What’s going on? Did you exonerate me yet?” He smirked, amused by my attitude, and then turned back to the seat he’d been in, pulling his coat off the back. “I’m afraid not. We’re to come down to the station. There’s been a new development.” “What’s going on?” I asked. Ansel settled his hand on my shoulder and I threw him a nervous, annoyed glance, knowing it had to be bad. “What? Do they think I killed someone else?” “Others have come forward to speak against you and … press further charges.” “What?” I demanded, clenching my fists. It was habit, not just because I was frustrated but because rage usually required that I quell the flames that wanted to burst through my palms. No fire came, which I noted absently. “Some other asshole think I killed their dog?” “Did you work briefly for a man named Peter Riley? Owns a diner in the Underground—well. Owned.” I went still, torn between panic and fury. That fucking asshole. I was quiet for long enough that Ansel squeezed my shoulder and stepped in closer. “You should tell him what’s up, Sophia. He needs to know everything in order to

help you.” “Fuck,” I breathed. Stewart nodded, sliding his coat on. “I’ll take that as a yes. You can give me the rundown on the way to the station.” “Now? We’re going now?” I asked. Stewart sighed. “Technically we should have gone a few hours ago, but you weren’t around. There was talk of using your anklet to locate you, but you have friends at Central who decided to allow you to come in on your own. The longer you make them wait, though, the less inclined they’re going to be to trust you.” “Come on, Sophia. We should go.” “Just—just hold on,” I stuttered, jerking my shoulder out of his grip and doing a quick pace away and back. “Does this—are we going in … Am I under arrest again?” “We’ll need to see a judge this time. It’s not going to be quick, but I’m certain I can keep you out of a cell.” “For how long?” I asked, my gaze locked on his. “You’re working on fixing this, right? Making it go away?” “Stewart’s the best,” Ansel said, trying to calm me. I shook my head, ignoring him to focus on the lawyer. He watched me for a moment before his broad shoulders heaved with a slow sigh. “To be frank, that’s not my job. I keep you out of a cell, represent you in legal matters, but if this is some sort of set-up like you’re saying, that’s its own issue.” “We’re working on it,” Ansel insisted, glaring briefly at Stewart before stepping between the law and me and forcing me to focus on him. “I’m working on it.” “Working on what? Getting people who are lying about me to tell the truth? How? How are you trying to turn bad people good? What do you know about this sort of trouble?” Catching myself careening toward some vicious and unwarranted insults, I cut myself off, trying my best to rein in my temper. Ansel was being nice, trying his best to help. My own impotent frustration at being told

by Beau—and now indirectly by Ansel—that I couldn’t solve my own fucking problems was my issue. I couldn’t make it his by being an asshole. I shouldn’t make it all worse by making him hate me. Taking a deep breath, blowing it out as slowly as I could manage, I forced my hands to unclench, closed my eyes to simply sit and be still for a moment, and then gave a terse nod. “Let’s just go. We can sort out the rest after.”

We entered Central Topside, which was unusual for me, but I guess it made sense for the two werewolves I was with. None of us spoke as we made our way through the slightly labyrinthine building, heading to a section I hadn’t been to before. As we hit an area that looked to be dedicated to meeting rooms, Stewart leaned in and spoke to me quietly. “Don’t answer any questions, direct them to me. I’ll tell you when to speak.” “How nice not to have to think for myself,” I snarled quietly. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He flagged down a ing cop, told them who we were and why we were there, and then gestured to a bank of chairs against the wall and told Ansel and me to wait. Then, he slipped off to goddess knew where, and left me to my own devices. Probably not the wisest move on his part but, even though he was doing me a favor, I was glad to be rid of him. Ansel rubbed a hand once over my back to get my attention and then asked, “You okay?” when he had it. “Yeah. I guess. This is just all surreal. I didn’t do this shit. Well, I b—” Cutting off before I could it to arson in any capacity, I shook my head. “I mean, I know someone’s either framing me or just too stupid to know they have the wrong person, but I’m still stuck here with your slick lawyer and a buttload of charges on my back. I don’t know what to do about it.” “We’ll figure it out, like I said. Just be patient.” I snorted. “Have you met me?” Ansel grinned. “You want a soda or anything? Did you eat before you ran off this morning?” “I’m fine,” I said, though I probably should have been hungry. “I just want this all over with.” “Understandable.”

We went quiet and I turned my attention to the rest of the floor. Most of the rooms were visible through windows and open doors, but others had closed blinds and hid whatever was inside. People milled about, some obviously cops, some looking lost, and some looking like lawyers who could give Stew a run for his money if it came down to an arrogance measuring contest. I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, chewing the inside of my lip, and generally twitching like a drug addict awaiting a fix. I didn’t know what to do with myself and the impotence was an unusual, uncomfortable feeling. The door to the conference room near the end of the row opened up, three men in expensive suits stepped out, and then made way for a broad, imposing, older werewolf with a gruff voice and snakeskin shoes. I couldn’t see his face at first, but something about him looked strange, off in a way I couldn’t discern. He paused, pointed threateningly into the room at someone or something out of sight, then gestured just as intently to the suits. When he turned around, I realized why he looked weird and instantly wanted to drop to the ground, crawl under the chair, and hide. He didn’t recognize me, which I was grateful for, despite the fact that I could not stop staring. Not only was it jarring to see the man I’d nearly killed in Howling striding boldly toward me, lips pursed in pompous frustration, but he had no eyebrows. I knew why, of course; I’d burned off all the hair on his head and, while a healer could make you look like yourself again once an elemental got at you, they can’t force hair to regrow. The wig on his head was lopsided, a poor approximation of the mane he’d had before he’d grabbed my ass, and I wasn’t sure if he knew how much it was sliding awkwardly around as he bristled and complained. The group ed me without a word, despite the fact that I watched him go by with my jaw slack and my eyes wide. Once he was in the elevator and it had ed to another floor, Ansel leaned in close. “What’s wrong?” “Uhh,” I trailed off, before blinking and meeting Ansel’s eye. “I think I’m in even more trouble.” “Than being accused of murder?” “Wasn’t there something else in there? Attempted murder?”

“I … believe so. Why?” “Because that old fart who just sailed out of here with the shitty wig?” Ansel nodded. “I … sort of put him down. He didn’t shave those eyebrows off, I got rid of them for him.” “Oh, Sophia.” “I wasn’t going to kill him!” I protested, tensing, my spine going stiff and straight. “Not … intentionally. I never meant—I never attempted to actually kill him!” “I’m sure he didn’t see it that way. That was Walter William Wainscot the third. He’s … one of the richest men in the country.” “Fuck.” “He doesn’t take death threats lightly and he gets a lot of death threats.” I thought of how quickly he’d gone to sexual assault when presented with my skinny ass. “I can’t imagine why. He seems like such a stand-up fellow.” Ansel sighed, slumping down slightly. After a moment, Ansel frowned, tilting his head slightly as curiosity sprouted. “Why … did you try—I mean, not try to kill him?” “He grabbed my ass.” It was Ansel’s turn to go tense and rigid. “What? When? Why?” I waved him off, forgetting that he didn’t know the whole story. “It’s apparently allowed, though no one told me.” Catching his horrified look, I shook my head, clarifying as his gaze darted oh-so-briefly down toward my hips. “Not—not grabbing my ass, but just grabbing—you know Howling?” Ansel was quiet for a beat as he realized I didn’t mean the verb. “Oh right, I thought you meant—yes. I haven’t ever been there myself, but I know of it.” “Well, I worked there for all of one shift, but no one told me that it’s a free-forall and everyone’s always getting grabbed and slapped and molested. He was

pretty pissed when I shoved cigarettes down his throat and knocked him over and lit his head on fire.” Ansel’s face warped in a way I didn’t understand at first but then, a split second later, his whole body shuddered and a bark of snorting, ungainly laughter came out of his mouth. He controlled it, falling into a fit of awkward giggles, trying to contain himself for a moment, but eventually he gave up and just laughed. “What?” I asked, laughing lightly, unable to help myself. “What?” “That’s—” he said, before snorting once and forcing himself to stop laughing enough to speak. “That’s just really funny.” “Oh yeah, hilarious,” I said, shaking my head, but still grinning. “He’s probably claiming I tried to straight up murder him, which is extra funny, considering the fact that now everyone here thinks I really did murder someone.” “Not that—no, you’re right. That’s bad. But … I mean, he really did deserve it. From what I hear, yours isn’t the only unsuspecting ass he’s ever grabbed.” I gave in and laughed with him. “Great. So I’m a hero to asses everywhere, but I get to be a hero in a cage.” “Stewart will make sure that doesn’t happen,” Ansel assured me, sobering up. I shook my head, looking back down the hall in the direction the lawyer had gone. “He’d better.” We went quiet, waiting to see what was coming next, no longer in the mood to laugh over lecherous old men getting what they deserved.

16

“But what about the proof!?” I argued, pacing the small room. Stewart sighed, refusing to answer my question, probably because it was the third time I'd asked. I wasn’t allowed to leave this time. The anklet would stay on to control my fire, but I was going to be taken downstairs to a cell. The rich, ass-happy werewolf had used his money to convince someone in power that I was a liability to the public. Considering the charges Pete and Penelope had leveled at me, the allegation that I had killed the wrong vampire several years ago, and the fact that I generally tend to be a dick, I could see where they were coming from. I didn’t like it, but I could understand it, if I’d been on the outside looking in. Too bad it was looking like I’d never be on the outside again. “We’re going to get this fixed,” Ansel said, before glancing over at the door as it opened. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my fists, and prepared to be manhandled into cuffs and dragged downstairs kicking and screaming. Or maybe just sobbing and blubbering. I hadn’t decided yet. “Sophia,” Catherine said quietly, surprising me. I whirled around, shocked to find her alone. “Come on. I told them I’d escort you.” “I’ve got people working on this,” Ansel said. Stewart remained quiet, not offering any or suggestions. I sort of wanted to punch him, just for the hell of it, but he didn’t really deserve it. And Catherine probably already thought poorly of me. We weren’t friends exactly, but we’d known each other a long time and I didn’t want her to hate me. Instead of addressing Ansel or saying goodbye, I just nodded at Catherine and closed in. She held up cuffs, made a motion for me to turn around, and fixed the cuffs onto my wrists. They felt awfully loose but before I could mention it, she spun me around and caught my eye. The look she gave me was intense and unreadable and I got the distinct impression that maybe things weren’t as bad as they

seemed. She led me through the halls just as she had done before: silently and regally. She nodded here and there to people who said hi or nodded her way, while I got looks that ranged from confused to outright hostile. I ignored them, unbothered and, frankly, used to that sort of thing. Five floors up and halfway down an unfamiliar hallway, Catherine abruptly darted to the side, shoved open a door to a women’s bathroom, and practically threw me inside. I grunted as I hit the wall, doing my best to keep from losing my feet and slamming face first into the ground. She wedged her heel against the door, waited until she had my attention, and then spoke, calmly and quietly. “Did you do it?” “I—” Cutting off, I decided I owed her more than my usual outrage. Taking a deep breath, leaning back against the wall, I matched her tone. “I attacked the werewolf, but only after he grabbed my ass without permission. The … hair loss was an accident. I burnt down the diner—again, by accident, and the state of the grease traps there makes me think they were hoping for something like me to happen. I didn’t burn down the coffee shop and I didn’t kill the wrong vampire! I verified who he was and took the proper samples both before and after, and I wouldn’t have killed him at all if he’d willingly come in. You know me!” Catherine was quiet for a long time, her gaze intense. “Tell me about the diner.” “Sort of a shithole, run by a guy who’s obviously on some—” “I mean, what happened, Sophia.” “Shit, sorry, yeah. I needed a job, Pete gave me a chance at working the grill and things seemed to be going well until I couldn’t fry an egg. I tried to do it myself —like, not with the grill, but myself and then the whole place went up. That fucking grill had obviously never been cleaned. Grease caught, exploded, caught everything else on fire, and everyone ran. There was no alarm, no nothing, but I did try to take responsibility. I swear to god. Pete yelled at me to get the fuck out because he’s not insured to hire fire elementals, so I scrammed. I didn’t mean to do anything.”

“You never mean to do anything,” Catherine said, making my guts seize for a second. “But I do know you, and I know something’s going on that isn’t on the up-and-up. I worked here when you killed Gerry and, according to my personal logs, his samples were logged in, stored, and only recently went missing. You’ve made a lot of dumbass mistakes, but this all falling on your head at once? That alone is weird, but you add in the missing samples and it sticks in my craw. So.” She stood up straight, rolled her shoulders, and seemed to strengthen her stance. “Hit me.” “What?” “However you would attack me if I was still hauling your ass toward a cell, do it.” “I’m cuffed,” I said, shaking my head. “What am I supposed to do?” “Improvise. Because I’m going to let you go but it’s got to look like I didn’t.”

I left Catherine with as few bruises as I could manage in my bound state, tucked my cuffed wrists under my jacket—no easy feat, considering it doesn’t cover my butt—and made it out into the Underground without any fuss. Catherine promised to give me a fifteen-minute head start, so the first thing I did once I was out was find a sinkhole and stumble in. Most of the Underground is poorly maintained. Sure, werewolves and vampires will put money and power toward keeping the areas around their fancy clubs nice, but the rest is crumbling, rancid, strewn with garbage, and perfect for hiding. I wedged myself into the first foxhole I could find, fought my wrists and shoulders until I could get my hands under my butt, around my thighs, and in front of me, and considered the cuffs. Catherine had left them loose, just like I thought, but not so loose I could just slide out of them. I was probably going to need to scrape a few layers of skin off to get my hands through them, if not actually break something. It would have been the first time I’d personally had to go to such extreme measures, but I’d seen vampires do it enough times trying to get away from me that I knew it would work. A lump of body odor twitched next to me, groaning and making me wish I’d found an unoccupied place to free myself. As I took a deep breath and prepared to yank the left cuff off, the lump groaned out something that definitely sounded like a rude tell-off. I paused, eyeballing the messy hair in the darkness and wondering if this lowlife was friend or foe. After she shook her hair out of her face and yawned, I sighed with relief. “Gloria, what the hell are you doing here? Thought you got busted awhile back.” “Did,” she croaked. “What’s it to you?” “Sophia,” I said, knowing that would explain everything. “You got any pins in that rat's nest of yours? I need to get outta these.” “Sophia? No shit,” she said, sounding impressed, and adjusting her mountain of blankets to reveal a bone-skinny body and massive fake boobs that had once been her meal ticket. “Gimme your wrists. I got keys.”

“Cuff keys?” I asked, lifting a brow, sure she was messing with me. Her hands were shaky as she worked, but she was quick and before I knew it, I was free. “Sweet, thanks. I’ll catch you back when I get my shit together.” “Thought you were roasting bloodsuckers.” “It’s a long story,” I itted, before realizing that I wasn’t as free as I thought. “You know anything about getting a tracking anklet off?” “Don’t got the tools for that, sister.” She kept the cuffs and I didn’t stop her; I certainly didn’t want them. “You’re awfully close to Central. What’s going on?” “Got framed for murder, now I’m on the lam. Is there a way out of here other than the obvious?” “An underground in the underground?” she asked, before her eyes went back to the anklet. “Bottom of the sinkhole. It’s a sewage pipe, but no one will tag you down there. Deep as fuck and made out of some heavy metal.” I wrinkled my nose at the idea, but I could already hear enough commotion up at street level that I knew I didn’t want to run toward it. Better to risk barfing than wasting Catherine’s goodwill and getting caught again. “Any idea where it opens up?” “Depends on where you stop walking.” “Right. One last thing,” I said, clearing my throat shamefully. “You got a light?” Gloria was quiet for a beat before she laughed, a wheezing, grating, delighted sound that made me feel stupid and impotent. She didn’t comment or give me shit, though, as she handed over a flashlight and sent me on my way.

I came out across town smelling like shit and glad I hadn’t eaten anything. There was no way I would have lasted in the sewer if I’d actually stopped to hork every single time my body insisted I should. I had a vague notion of where I’d come out, and I was only off by a few blocks. Go me. No one even noticed when I emerged from another sinkhole to wander the Underground streets smelling like crap and covered in goddess-knew-what. I hadn’t really expected anyone to care, considering the local inhabitants, but I still tried to at least scrape my shoes off once I found a pathetic patch of fake grass. I needed to make it Lola’s, get Gerry’s location, smack him around, and figure out what the hell was going on. I had to find Penelope, get my jacket back, convince her to tell the truth about me, and maybe apologize to Pete. There was no hope convincing the rich werewolf I hadn’t fucked up, but the rest of them were my people, at least insofar as they could be harassed or bought or convinced with a well-phrased threat to get off my back. I could solve my own problems, I told myself, I just needed to stop letting other people stand in my damn way. Like last time, Lola opened the door, looked me over, and then gestured without words for me to come in. “Don’t move,” she said as she shut the door. “Well, take off your shoes, but don’t go anywhere.” “I’m sorry to—” “I don’t care,” she said, disappearing into the back of her small house. I did as she said, careful not to let my disgusting boots touch her relatively nice carpet. She came back with a plastic bag. “You’re gonna get cleaned up. Put all your shit in here. I’ll get it—wait. You still got your tracker?” “Yeah, why?”

“Then never mind, you don’t have time to clean up. Keep your shoes on, you’re not staying.” “I got—” “Arrested again?” she asked. I winced. “How’d you know?” “You’re literally covered in shit. That’s not something you get covered in unless you’re on the run. Stick to the sewers; they can’t track you that low through all the concrete and if you’re in the pipes. Head back, go north toward Stewart and Glick. You know that area?” “Oh yeah,” I said, snarling. “I’ve fucking been there.” “Hit up the Tip Top. Gerry’s been crashing there.” “What the fuck’s he doing there?” “Supposedly he’s gonna start running girls.” I laughed. It was quiet and bitter at first, but after a few moments, when the gravity of what this dumb asshole was getting himself into hit me, it become a wheezing cackle. “Beef hasn’t figured out he’s trying to horn in, yet?” “Beef’s outta town for a few weeks. Family emergency.” “His mama?” I asked, knowing the pimp’s history better than I probably should. But, all things considered, he wasn’t a total asshole. He was good to the girls and didn’t let skeevy dickbags move in on them. Sure, he tuned up johns a little worse than he should if they tried to skip out on the bill or got a little too rough, and the percentage he took was larger than a decent man would take, but the girls seemed to like him, so I didn’t hassle him more than I needed to get info. “On her last,” Lola said gravely. We shared a moment of silence for a woman neither of us had ever met, who’d raised a bit of an asshole, and then Lola shoved some cash into my hand. “Hurry. Don’t spend it all in one place. If

anyone asks you later, you came here, pounded on my door, and I wasn’t in. I never saw you.” “Then I never left human crap on your welcome mat. I owe you.” “I’ll collect,” Lola said.

As much love as I had for my old jacket, I was damned glad that I was wearing it instead of the fancy one Ansel had bought me. My old one had been through all sorts of shit with me, so this was hardly new. The one Ansel had bought me was precious and expensive and beautiful and didn’t deserve what I was subjecting myself to in the most disgusting place in the city. I came out two blocks from the Tip Top, listened apprehensively for sirens, and then popped my head out of the sinkhole and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary popped up, no one threw a giant net over my head and yelled, “caught ya!” so I figured I was in the clear. I hustled up, hugged the walls of the first building I found, and made my way through Beef’s territory to his primary place of business. As per usual, a few of the sex workers were hanging out on the street, under street lamps—both lit and busted—and waiting for customers. I caught sight of one I vaguely recognized and closed in with a nervous little wave. She squinted at me but kept most of the disgust off her face. “You looking for a job or a good time?” she asked. I shook my head. “Neither. Looking for Gerry.” “That asshole?” she asked, rolling her eyes. I nodded. “Yeah. That asshole.” “If he’s offering you better rates than Beef, let me tell you he’s full of shit. He’s recruited a few ponies, but he’s a damned liar. I can always tell.” “Him being a damned liar is what I’m here about actually,” I said, snarling. “He’s calling me a murderer and I wanna have a little chat with him about that.” Her eyes lit up with pleased surprise, before she tucked a hand into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “You’re the sour bitch?” “Apparently,” I said, not feeling like arguing. “Look, is he here or not? I’m sort of on a time table.”

“Yeah, he’s here. Room sixteen. Think he’s got a filly up there, though.” “I’m sure they’re real busy.” I stormed off toward the motel, paused, and turned back. “Any news on Beef’s mom?” “She ain’t gonna make it. He’s real broken up.” “Shit, man.” Like with Lola, the two of us went quiet for a moment, before I spoke up again. “This a good place to send flowers?” “Good as any,” she said, before lighting her cigarette. Considering me, she took a quick drag, and then dropped her hands, speaking with the cancer stick hanging loosely out the side of her lips. “Not so sour after all.” “Still a bitch, though,” I called, turning back and stalking toward room sixteen. I wasn’t sure how I’d get in without being able to burn the door down and I wasn’t sure how much time I had before I’d have to scram, but I didn’t care. This asshole had been running around telling the world that I’d killed some innocent schlub and let his dumb ass live. I knew he wasn’t really Gerry, though I had no idea how I’d prove it if the actual cops couldn’t, but maybe the only proof I’d need would be his blubbering, crying confession that I was about to kick out of him. My boots were steel-toed and, while my fire still seemed to be tucked beneath the wards of the anklet—a memory of my dream shot through me, and I shivered, thoughI couldn't identify why—I had enough rage in me to know how to go after a dumbass vampire. He couldn’t be old enough to do me much damage, I told myself, or he wouldn’t be slumming it down in the Tip Top, trying to sway girls away from a man with a dying mother. The real Gerry had been just a few years old, so if this asshole was pretending to be him, he couldn’t have hit a decade in, yet. Which meant I’d have to look out for speed, the vaguest nubs of pointy canines, and—if he was a real moron—the threat of thralling. So, don’t look in his eyes, keep your dukes up, and maybe kick him straight in the groin as soon as you see him, I told myself. Grinning at the idea of a good, old-fashioned sack-slam, I banged my fist on the door of room sixteen.

17

Keeping my gaze low so I didn’t accidentally look the asshole vampire right in his mesmerizing eyes, I waited impatiently. I could hear movement inside, the voices of a man and a woman, and then the sound of locks sliding to the side. The moment the door was unlatched, I kicked forward, slamming it into the person beyond and diving through. I did a badass shoulder roll to the side, noted that the swearing of the pained vampire I’d assaulted with the door sounded dreadfully familiar, and pushed to my feet. Gerry—though not the real Gerry, I knew in an instant—was up off the bed in a flash, demanding to know what the fuck was going on, but I didn’t spare a single second. Fueled by rage, I dove at him, taking him off his feet, crashing him into the nightstand beyond, feeling the impact through my shoulders, but refusing to let it deter me. The cheap wood collapsed, a lucky break on my part, and I grabbed for the nearest shard, jamming it down into Gerry’s throat with both hands. Fingers grabbed my shoulders, tossing me back, scraping my palms off the wood and slicing splinters into my skin. I swore, but only barely before I smacked into the wall and slid down to land on my ass. The asshole baby vamp who had been bothering me since this shit had started barely seemed to notice me, suddenly so concerned for Gerry and his gushing throat wound. “Baby! You’re fucking bleeding, baby!” Delirious from the impact, the pain in my hands, and the fact that this idiot was dumber than I had previously thought, I let out a loose, girlish, uneven laugh, and struggled to get to my feet. I didn’t have a concussion, but she’d rung my bell just well enough that a few stars were twinkling at the edges of my vision and I could tell I was somewhat compromised. As I rose, I wheeled my gaze around, searching for the closest weapon, decided that the ugly lamp next to the ancient TV was as good an option as any, and grabbed it. Without hesitating, knowing that Baby was going to get over Gerry bleeding any moment, I yanked the cord out of the wall, ran at her as fast as my feet would carry me, and swung

the lamp into her skull as hard as my tired and bruised shoulders would allow. I lost my footing, collapsed to the ground next to her, and groaned. Stillness descended for a bit; Baby was out cold, I was exhausted, and Gerry lay gurgling, holding the stick that was lodged in his throat but unable—or unwilling —to pull it out. I let myself catch my breath, still seeing sparkles at the edge of my vision and hoping I hadn’t gotten myself hurt worse than I’d meant. When I was certain I could sit up, I let go of the lamp, coughed awkwardly into the air, and then pushed into a sitting position. Gerry continued to bleed, Baby lay still as the dead, and someone whistled from the doorway. I glanced over, snarling, telling myself I would leap into action and attack anyone coming after me. In reality, I just squinted, slightly disoriented, at the girl peering inside. I didn’t recognize her specifically, but I could tell by her get-up she was a working girl. I looked back at the carnage I’d wrought, considered it, and then turned back to her. “Hey. You know where Beef keeps his cuffs?”

I cuffed Baby up in the shower, not because she wouldn’t be able to get out, but mainly to confuse her and so I would know by the ruckus once she was awake. Gerry bled pathetically as I tied his hands behind his back, watching me with wild eyes and enough fear and confusion that I was certain he had no fucking idea who I was. Which meant I had definitely never tried to kill him. I’m a lot of shitty things, but forgettable isn’t one of them. I sent the girls away, thanked them for their help, and then crouched down next to Gerry. Without hesitating or warning him, I grabbed the makeshift stake, yanked it out of his throat, and winced at the torrent of blood that flooded out. He’d start healing soon, but he’d be weakened by the amount of blood he’d lost, and that would definitely work in my favor. “What’s your name?” I asked, knowing he couldn’t really answer. I gave him a beat as he flopped desperately like a fish out of water, and then sighed as if I was annoyed at him. “Come on, the cops are probably almost here. What’s your fucking name?” His eyes rolled back in desperation and I shook my head, brandishing the stake as if I would use it on him again. Self-preservation kicked in and he attempted to speak. A whisper came out: “Gerry.” “Bullshit,” I said, leaning in to snarl directly into his face. “I killed Gerry. Whoever the fuck you are, you’re not him.” “Please,” he whispered again, the edges of his throat pulling together slowly. I hoped to god he had splinters too, and that they needed to be sliced out later. Without anesthetic. “Please.” “Whoever you’re covering for isn’t here right now, asshole. I am. They can’t save you, but I can kill you. Legally, even!” I grinned as if I’d just realized something exciting. “If you’re Gerry, then I’m the bounty hunter who’s pulled your ticket and I can stick this sucker straight through your heart right here and now. And who’s gonna stop me, huh? You? Your stupid girlfriend? None of the ladies outside, that’s for sure. They don’t like you. Hell, I don’t like you.”

“No,” Gerry protested, only the edge of the word coming out as sound. “No!” “Why no?” I asked, pressing the stake to his chest. I couldn’t have really killed him at that moment, just because of the angle and the fact that my shoulders smarted and, honestly, I was too tired to do the work of actually piercing a chest with a shitty stake. But it had the effect I was going for. Gerry started crying. “I’m not Gerry! I’m not Gerry!” “The hell you say!” I said, plastering faux shock across my face. “Then what the fuck are you doing telling people you’re Gerry and that I failed to kill you?” “I’m getting paid for it! Someone’s paying me! A lotta money!” Voice cracking or going out here and there, not-Gerry started babbling. “I’ve only been a vampire for a few weeks! Someone offered me money to get turned, to say I was Gerry!” “Bullshit,” I spat, considering him. “You’re too strong, you’ve got teeth.” “It’s a drug! They made me take a drug! Supposed to make me look older, make me faster!” Squinting, thinking back on the bullshit with Mezzeluna, I sat on my heels, suddenly worried about much more than making him confess to being a fucking fibber. “Who? Who’s paying you?” “I don’t know, man. Some dude. Some lawyer or some shit. I don’t know. I’m just supposed to lie low, to tell people I’m Gerry, and to show up when the lawyer calls. That’s all! I’m not—my name’s Brad!” “Your name’s—good goddess.” I shook my head, frustrated and lost. “What else did the lawyer tell you?” “I don’t know! No one’s supposed to know I’m here!” “So you’re trying to set yourself up as a pimp? Good job, Brad.” I pushed to my feet, paced to the edge of the room, and then turned back to look Brad over, wondering with a fresh round of rage who was after me and why. I also realized I’d been there for at least fifteen minutes and the cops were

probably on their way—if not already outside. This section of the Underground could be hard for cops to navigate for various reasons, but that didn’t mean it was unreachable. Mind racing, I rushed closer, refusing to give in to the urge to laugh when Brad winced at my approach. “The cops have never spoken to you?” “No. The lawyer said he’d handle it—uh—uh—represent me. That’s what he said.” “And you don’t even give a shit why?” “They’re paying me!” he insisted. I shook my head. “Someone’s gonna pay here, but it’s not gonna be them. If there’s a lawyer involved, the person behind all this ain’t gonna pay for shit. I’ve gotta scram, Brad, but do me a favor. The cops are gonna be here soon. Ask for Catherine. Tell them you won’t speak to anyone but Catherine.” “Who’s Catherine?” “Just ask for Catherine.” “What if I ask for the wrong one?” “What?” I asked, a shudder of annoyance running through me. “What if there’s more than one Catherine?” I blinked at him, angry but unable to argue. Central was a big place with hundreds of employees. Plus, there was no guaranteeing it would be that precinct who even showed up to arrest me. The stupid shit had a point. “Damnit. O’Hearn. Catherine O’Hearn. Can you that?” “I think so,” Brad said. I nodded. “Good. Tell her everything.” “What about my money?” “You’re not getting any fucking money. You never were.” “What the hell?” Brad argued. Metal clanged in the bathroom and I swore,

knowing my time was up. “What the hell indeed, Brad. Don’t fuck this up or I’ll come back and I won’t miss your heart next time.”

As much as I wanted to creep on the hotel and see the cops haul Brad’s dumb ass out in cuffs, I knew I needed to stay hidden. The sewers had protected me so far, so I needed to retreat back inside like a rat. I’d regroup, figure out my next move, and try not to think about how I’d manage to get some food or rest if I couldn’t wrap this bullshit up soon. Hustling through sludge and sewage with a destination and a purpose was one thing. Having to sleep in the sewers was entirely another. A few blocks from the hotel I found a large chamber with ladders, catwalks, and a ceiling that rose eight or nine stories up to a lit dome that illuminated things just enough that I was reminded I was, in fact, still hauling ass through crap. My brain had mostly adjusted to the horrendous smells, numb to the disgust I’d initially felt. I heaved myself out of the pipe, swung up onto a catwalk, found a pocket of shadow—it seemed like a good idea just in case some city worker showed up—and sagged against the wall. My clothes were ruined, my shoes too. I could possibly save the jacket, though the lining would have to be replaced, at the very least. I needed six or seven showers; I hadn’t eaten in … Well, I couldn’t . I breathed out an oath, leaned my head back against the stone, and stared up at the light in the center of the chamber. It wasn’t until a few long moments ed that I realized I wasn’t staring at a light at all, but the creeping dawn. The actual Topside sky. I was trapped beneath the streets, staring at freedom but unable to reach it, caked in crap that wasn’t my own. A shudder of existential panic ran through me and, before I could stop it, an angry, shocked, “Fuck!” came screaming out of my mouth. I twisted, kicked the railing, raging against my situation, against whatever asshole had stuffed me petulantly in this position, and at my own inability to keep my shit together. If I hadn’t burned down Mezzeluna I wouldn’t have lost my license. If I hadn’t told Beau to fuck off, I could have had it back. If I hadn’t refused to trust Carl and his egg-frying tactics, I would have still had a job. If I hadn’t trusted Penelope, I wouldn’t have been on the hook for arson. If I hadn’t gone with my first instinct with Winchell Winthorpe Whatever, I wouldn’t have been in trouble with pricey, asshole lawyers.

I’d done everything wrong and now there I was, in the damned sewers, running for my life, trying to figure out how to fix everything I’d fucked up. I kept kicking, stopping only occasionally to pace to another section of the catwalk to kick that instead. In the end I accomplished nothing except hurting my own toes until they, too, numbed. I had no plan, had no solution, and still had two handfuls of splinters. I needed to find Penelope and maybe Pete, but had no idea how. I had cash Lola had given me, but nowhere to spend it. Brad probably wouldn’t come through, if only because I’d beaten the shit out of him. His dumbass girlfriend hated my guts, and Beef wasn’t even around to stand for me as a character witness. Sure, I’d smacked him around a time or two, but he knew the deal. Sometimes you get your hands dirty. He’d understood. Hell, he’d respected me for it. I stopped kicking, breathing hard, tasting the odor of human waste at the back of my throat, fighting the urge to vomit, and tried to calm myself down. It was a few heavy, difficult breaths before I realized that I was still fire-free. I’d been in the midst of a great many tempers throughout my life but never before had they been fire-free. I couldn’t tell what was different between this moment and the moment with Beau—other than the obvious—but something about rage just wasn’t enough to pull my power out. It lay dormant in my core, snoozing and lazy, leaving me feeling even more pathetic than I had when I’d been kicking a metal fence and swearing up a storm. Motivation. Then, the fun starts. “Okay,” I said, though my voice croaked from anxiety and a memory too slimy to grasp. “Get hold of yourself. You’re a badass. You just beat up two vampires. You’ve been crawling through shit for the better part of an hour. You’ve made friends with junkies and pimps, werewolves, vampires, and lowlifes. You can get through this. You hear me, Sophia?” Biting my tongue, thinking about my best friend, about how much Joey had believed in me before he’d been murdered, I took another shaky breath and let it out slowly. I straightened my spine, looking up toward the sky and clearing my throat. “You’re Softy fucking Wagner,” I said, echoing something Joey had said to me a few years back, when he’d been healing a gnarly gash a vampire had gouged into my hip. “Know your worth, what you're capable of handling. This is

nothing, kid. This is … This is nothing.” I’d make it nothing. I’d handle it. I just had to find Penelope and Pete, that was all. I just had to use my connections, my skills, and my determination to hunt them down. I knew people all over the Underground and those people knew people. If I hassled enough of them, one would have to provide a good lead. I couldn’t think about what would happen if I didn’t find them fast. I had to be optimistic. I had to believe in myself. “You’re Softy fucking Wagner,” I repeated, heading as boldly as I could manage for one of the pipes off to my right. “And this is nothing.”

Half an hour of sewer later, I was almost to the surface. I’d grab the first asshole I found and interrogate him with prejudice. If he knew nothing, I’d move on to the next and the next, all the way down the line, hitting every person in the Underground if necessary, until I found Pete and Penelope themselves. Penelope seemed like a genuine shithead; she had probably fucked over others. I could likely find no shortage of people who hated her and wouldn’t mind seeing me slug her in the nose. It was just about doing the legwork. I was nothing if not determined. I stepped out into another sinkhole, hoping I was near where Cup Off had been before I’d supposedly burned it to the ground, and peered up at the jagged edges of rock and pockets of hobos. None looked familiar from this far off, but this hole had been an especially deep one, and I was certain once I managed to crawl up the side of the uneven rock to the surface, I’d see someone who knew me well enough to give up any info they had without making me hurt them first. I didn’t have time for that, I reasoned, right before the back of my head split open and the craggy ground flew up toward my face.

18

Someone was definitely calling my name and I definitely wanted them to stop. This time I was certain I had a concussion, though it had been a number of years since I’d had one and I was willing to it if I was wrong. Good goddess, I hoped I was wrong. I opened my eyes and thought, for a moment, that I was blind. The room was so dark that nothing appeared at first, until the sounds of chains scraping pulled my attention off to the right and I saw a shape move in the shadows. The shape was saying my name and it had Ansel’s voice. “Sophia!” “Ansel?” I asked, before groaning. Even my throat hurt. Everything ached, my palms stung and felt swollen from the splinters, and I was still covered in shit. So, really, nothing had gotten better, only worse. “Am I dying?” “Wake up! See if you can help free me!” “I can’t … Holy goddess my head.” I pressed my palm to my forehead, found it crusty with what I hoped was just more dried crap and not blood, and reopened my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. As Ansel continued to beg me to free him, I realized he was staying in one place, rattling chains and complaining. I was staying in one place, but seemed to be unchained. Maybe he had a point. “Hold on,” I whispered, forcing myself to sit up, to feel along my body to see if I too was chained up, and to finally sigh at being at least free enough that I knew I could stand. Well. I knew that I wouldn’t be held down by bindings if I tried. I wasn’t entirely sure I could physically make it to my feet. Deciding not to chance it, I rolled to my hands and knees, ignored the throbbing in my palms, and crawled clumsily toward Ansel. I nearly tipped over twice, but I made it. “Look for keys!”

“What?” I asked, squinting up at him. The pounding in my head was horrendous, making my vision double until I closed one eye. I still couldn’t see well, but at least there was only one Ansel-shape and not two. I couldn’t have handled being responsible for two. “Keys! I’m chained up with silver. See if you can find a way to free me.” “I can’t even stand up, dude. Just—” I flailed my hand loosely at him, as if waving off his orders. “Just give me a minute to process.” I swayed for a second, my arm still up as if I needed to continue flailing and hadn’t actually just forgotten how to work my own body. After a moment, I relaxed, took a steadying breath, and then planted my hands and did my best to get to my feet. I can’t tell you how long it took me, how many tries it took, or how I managed it at all, but eventually I was tall again. “Ah, shit,” I said, as a fresh round of nausea heaved through me, knocking me into Ansel’s chest. “Sophia!” he cried, worried for me. Chains rattled, he swore under his breath, and I squeezed my eyes shut to reduce the dizziness. I had to be better, I told myself. Ansel couldn’t help me, so I had to help myself. I’d been hurt before, clocked in the head by vampires, and then forced to fight for my life. I could do this. I had to do this. “Okay,” I whispered, opening my eyes, taking another slow breath, and forcing myself with every scrap of will in every cell in my body to pretend I didn’t want to vomit and then curl up in the corner and die. “Let’s fuck shit up.” I giggled a bit but managed to stand up on my own, steady myself, and forced my addled brain to take stock of the situation. “Are you okay?” Ansel asked. “No. I haven’t eaten, someone hit me in the head, and I can’t see … basically anything. What happened?” “I don’t know. I was leaving the precinct after you escaped and I got attacked. I got drugged, and woke up here. Then, after I’d yelled myself hoarse, that door —” I heard the chains rattle, but couldn’t see what he was trying to gesture at.

“—opened and someone threw you in here. I’ve been trying to wake you up for … I don’t know how long, but I started to worry you were dying.” “Pro’ly am,” I said offhandedly, before swallowing, taking a breath, and trying to make my way along the wall. Maybe if I could find the door he meant, I could get through it and find a way for us to escape. “You don’t know who brought us here?” “No idea. But I know they’re vampires.” “Damnit,” I breathed, thinking back on Brad and Baby. I knew at least one vampire was involved, just because you can’t make a vampire without a vampire, but if there were several, things were going to get even dicier. Especially if they all were all old enough to make other vamps. You can’t do that as a baby bloodsucker. You need some years under your belt. The fact that they’d overpowered Ansel, at least long enough to drug him, meant they were going to be a real handful. I was probably outclassed and in danger, especially since I wasn’t sure I could even take a swing without knocking myself over. I considered for a half a second that I was going to have to use my wits to outsmart my enemy, but the lunacy of that hit me hard. My fit of giggles nearly took me off my feet, and I stumbled into the wall as the door across the way opened up and light broken up by a shadow fell across the unfinished concrete. Ansel started yelling orders to let us go, but our visitor wasn’t swayed. He stood still, his face hidden, watching me for a long moment, before he closed in. I lifted my fists, intending to fight off an attack, but my brain was slow and, before I knew it, I was slung over a broad shoulder, staring at the ground as I got carried out. Ansel continued to yell long after the door was shut and we were ascending an unfinished staircase. I expected to find myself in a dungeon, being hauled up into some torture room filled with screaming, bleeding humans. When we emerged, past a perfectly normal hollow-core door into a middle-class hallway leading to a sparsely decorated but well-lived-in family room, I mumbled a confused, “hunh.” Then, when I was set clumsily on my feet and turned awkwardly to face a fiercely grinning Cordara, I swore. “Damnit.”

Cordara had sent all her flunkies away and I’d found a comfy chair to sink into by the time she addressed me formally. I didn’t really want to hear what she had to say, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Even if I’d made a break for the door, trusting Ansel to take care of himself, half a dozen minions would have beaten me to the exit. So, I’d listen to whatever bullshit she had to say, cross my fingers she was behind the shenanigans ruining my life—though, it would be just my luck if her presence was the worst coincidence in history—and try to figure out how to escape while she spoke. “I told you,” she began, gliding closer in her unreasonably fancy dress. “You’d regret showing me disrespect.” “Are you gonna kill me?” I asked, leaning my head back on the seat and closing my eyes. The room spun beyond my eyelids, but it was still better than looking at her. “Eventually,” she purred, before snapping her fingers. A door opened, jarring me into a brief panic, and I forced myself to open my leaden eyes and see what she had in store for me. A bespectacled human in a tweed suit came at me quickly, one hand out, and I raised my arms in a pathetic defense attempt. Cordara laughed, and the man paused, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’m going to heal you,” he said, though his gaze ran the length of my prone body and it was clear from his expression he really didn’t want to touch me. I was probably still covered in shit, so I couldn’t blame him. I forced myself to relax, glanced with woozy curiosity at Cordara, and lowered my hands. Despite his obvious reservations, he did as he was supposed to, pressing his hand to my head, and working his magic. He wasn’t the most skilled healer I’d ever met, but I could tell as my vision cleared and the tension bled out of my spine that he was proficient. He didn’t bother with the splinters in my palms or the bruises I’d gotten from Baby, but by the time he was done, I felt better. I could see straight, at least, and the nausea settled in my guts sprang from hunger rather than concussion. “Thanks,” I said, sitting up straight as he backed off. “You’re a real pillar.” Annoyance rippled over his face, but he didn’t say anything to defend himself.

Cordara didn’t expressly dismiss him, but he knew his place, rushing out the door he’d come in without a word. She stood in the center of the living room, watching me with her dark eyes narrowed, pleased she had the upper hand. As discreetly as I could, I called for my fire, hoping that, while rage hadn’t freed it, maybe my own impending death might. Nope, I realized with no small amount of disappointment. Apparently only Beau’s stupid face could call it forth from beneath the trappings of the anklet. “So,” I said, getting carefully to my feet, scanning the room for a weapon, just as a futile precaution. She was probably a million years old and could easily wipe the floor with me so long as I couldn’t set her on fire. But having something sharp in my hands would at least help my mood. “What the fuck do you want?” Her hand was on my throat before I’d seen her move, crushing my windpipe enough that I clawed at her wrist without really meaning to. She caught my eye and I could see the urge to thrall inside, thrumming at the backs of her eyeballs like she could barely hold it at bay. She controlled herself, though, and I wasn’t really sure why. She had me at her mercy and could have done anything. I was a wanted fugitive and she likely had more money and more lawyers than everyone working at Central combined. Thralling’s illegal, but that doesn’t mean it’s always punished. Shoving me back into the chair, she snarled, standing her ground so she could lord over me, despite the fact that, in reality, she was a head shorter. “I want you to pay for your insolence,” she hissed, baring her impressive teeth. “Beau dared bring you amongst us, hunting down his own kind with a murderer on his arm. Now he thinks he can parade you around the club and get elected to Magistrate? Without my ?” Suddenly overcome with rage, she spun, her ridiculous skirts swirling around her as she stalked across the room. I coughed, rubbing at my neck with my swollen hands, jolting when one of the slivers made its way out of my index finger to jab into my throat. “He thinks being friends with some of the elders excuses his betrayal, but I’ll make sure he learns that his actions have dire consequences.” “This is about Beau?” I asked, picking at my skin and hoping I could find the splinter lodged beneath my chin without a mirror. “Then what the fuck am I doing here?”

“You are a means to an end,” she said, swirling back to glide closer. Everything she did was dramatic and ludicrous, which didn’t exactly surprise me, but it did amuse me. Or, it would have if she hadn’t been an immediate threat to my life. “You must be punished, and what better way than to use you as a pawn to teach Romanov a lesson?” “You can’t challenge Beau to a duel or something? A spritely game of chess? A fucking arm wrestling competition? Good goddess, you vampires are such pains in my ass.” “And you fire elementals are ignorant, dangerous fools who cannot be trusted to tie your own shoes without lighting the laces on fire. Beau may have impressed some at the club with his ties to you, claiming your power could be harnessed and used to protect us from flame, but I could see through him in an instant. I knew even before you burned him to the bone that he is an imbecile.” “Protect—” I cut off before I could even finish my question, ing what Beau had said to me after I’d burned down Mezzeluna. “That moron. ” Cordara regarded me, lifting a brow, the vaguest hint of curiosity spreading across her porcelain face. “You were not in on his plan?” “I didn’t even know why he was dragging me to your stupid club. He thinks that because he managed to get out of a burning building without dying that I’m some magical good luck charm. I’m anything but.” Cordara smirked. “It soothes me so to learn he’s even guilty of deceiving those he claims as allies.” “Good. Be soothed. I’ll head out and you can find some other way to deal with Beau.” “Oh no,” she said, appearing in front of me to keep me seated. I jolted; I hate when the really old vampires pull that hyper speed shit. “You’ll remain here and do exactly as I say.” “Why would I do that?” “Because you have no choice. You can’t defend yourself, and I’m holding your companion. When this is over, when my Gerry has told his tale, Beau will be

disgraced, guilty of aiding a criminal and a fiend, promoting you amongst our kind despite knowing of your misdeeds. With him out of the running and your werewolf distraught from the loss of his lover, the way will be paved for my pet to move in and become Magistrate. You took away a path to control when you uncovered Dark Crescent, but don’t think me out of the game. I have many avenues to walk toward power.” “My lover? Ansel?” I snorted, shaking my head. “He’s a friend. You blame me for any of this shit, and he’ll be fine. Trust me.” “Not after I’m done with him.” “Peachy,” I said, sighing and rolling my eyes. “But again, why would I go along with this?” “I’m going to thrall you, obviously. I’m quite looking forward to having another fire elemental as my puppet, actually. Your kind are vermin, but you do have an impressive way with your element of choice.” “Well I don’t,” I said, kicking my leg out, aiming specifically for her knee. She didn’t wince or move and I felt the impact up through my hip. Pretending I wasn’t uncomfortable, I yanked at my pant leg, showing off my anklet. “I can’t do shit with this on.” “It won’t remain on forever,” she said. “You give me too little credit. Had you not even considered the fact that the authorities are not here to arrest you at this moment? I’ve disabled the tracking and, when I’m ready, when things have settled properly into place, I’ll free you of your warded bonds and we’ll have a little fun.” “I don’t think your fun and my fun are the same, sister.” “Of course not,” she spat, disgusted by even the slightest comparison between us. “I have high-minded tastes and enjoy only the finer things. You are trash.” I shrugged; I couldn’t really argue with her assessment of me. I was still covered in sewage, after all.

19

I got dragged down to the basement again, but at least they tossed a wet rag in with me so I could wipe myself off. The door hadn’t even shut and Ansel was already calling to me, wanting to know if I was okay. I stumbled as I was literally shoved in, wishing with all my might that I had my fire so I could just deal with these assholes my own way and get us both out of the damned basement. “What happened?” Ansel asked as I righted myself, yanking the soaked towel off my head where it had landed when they’d thrown it. “Are you okay? You look better, are you better?” “They got a substandard healer to take care of my head wound, but I’m still covered in sewage.” On that note, I rubbed at my face, taking off as much of the caked shit as I could manage, knowing that what had gotten into my bound hair was a loss. I cleaned my hands, my face and neck, and decided that was good enough. I needed to find a way out before Cordara came back and thralled me into killing an orphanage full of disabled puppies or something. “That’s it? I couldn’t hear exactly what you guys talked about, only the sound of your voices.” Ansel asked as I tossed the towel aside and stepped over to inspect him. “Some vampire asshole hates me, hates Beau, and doesn’t want you to be Magistrate. She’s behind all of this.” “The kidnapping?” Ansel asked as I yanked on various parts of the chains as if it would do any good. “I think behind everything. The dipshit who’s claiming he’s the vampire I should have killed said someone’s paying him a lot of money to say he’s Gerry. Lawyers, money, rich vampire in a stupid dress: it’s all connected to this shit.” “What shit? This? Us being abducted?”

“Yeah. She’s gonna thrall me into burning something down, thrall you into hating me for it, kill me, and then blame Beau.” “What?” Ansel asked, before shaking his head as if he was annoyed at me. “What are you doing?” “Trying to free you.” “I haven’t been able to break these things. Try something else.” “Like what?” I demanded, clenching my fists and swinging my arms down in a rage like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “What else is there? I have no fire!” “Look around for a weapon or something to pick the lock on the chains. There’s a toolbox in the corner, maybe it’ll have something.” “There’s—” I turned, trying to see what he meant. I’d lost my sewer-spelunking flashlight at some point and could barely see anything in the dim basement. There seemed to be windows, but they were blacked out, save for shards of light slipping through here and there. “Oh, shit.” I hustled over, found the fucker locked, and swore. Ansel waited for me to lift it and slam it against the wall a few times before speaking again. “She wants you to burn something down?” “I think so,” I said, moving to a heavy metal shelf and twisting the toolbox so I could smack the lock against the sharp edge. “She wants to puppet me and play with my fire.” “But you can’t use it. Can you?” “No, but apparently she’s the anklet whisperer. It’s why no one’s tracked me here to rescue us.” “What’s she want you to burn down?” “She didn’t say, but we’re in this nice house that doesn’t really look like her style, so I’m assuming it.” Realizing there was probably more to the plan than just burning down a house, I froze, the heavy box lifted above my head. “Shit, are we the only ones here? Did she kill whoever lived here?”

“I can only smell vampires. And … you.” “Me?” “Well.” Ansel swallowed, paused like he didn’t want to say what came next. “I mean. What you smell like, anyway.” “No, yeah,” I amended, realizing what he’d meant. “I got that. Sorry.” “It’s okay,” he assured me, but I was certain it wasn’t. I was numb to the smell, but had gagged through the first hour or so of dealing with it. His senses were heightened way above mine. He probably wanted to kill himself having to deal with the odor. Or maybe werewolves and butt-sniffing dogs were more similar and he was having a hell of a time. “I don’t think whoever lives here is actually here, though. Before you showed up I couldn’t smell anyone living.” “That’s not comforting,” I said, before wondering without much real curiosity if he could smell the healer or if the dude had checked out. “Or anyone dead.” “Better.” With one final whack, I managed to break the toolbox open. Metal clattered to the ground, a roll of duct tape the size of my head smashed my left pinky toe, and I swore up a storm. “Are you okay?” “I got—” Letting out a wail as a second wave of pain washed through my foot, I forced myself to continue. “I got tossed around by a vampire and cracked in the skull today. I can handle a little tape on my foot.” “Okay. Good. There, to the left—your other left. There’s a pack of drill bits. See if one can be used to jimmy the lock.” “Can’t say I’ve ever jimmied a lock,” I said, finding the pack he was referring to. “I can try, but I’d be better off trying to pick it.” I closed in, searching for the lock, pulling out the smallest drill bit, and jamming it at the keyhole. It wouldn’t fit, but I tried my best. Minutes ed fruitlessly as I swore under my breath and tried everything I could think of.

“Shit,” I swore after the last drill bit had failed me. I turned to head back to the tool kit and look for something else. “Maybe I should try to knock the anklet off. I’d be able to free you if I just had my damned fire.” Ansel made encouraging sounds as I bashed awkwardly at the anklet with a hammer. It did nothing because I was too scared to accidentally break my own bones, but he made it sound like I was doing a good job anyway. I moved to the shelf I’d used to open the toolbox, slid my ankle up next to it, and tried to rest the edge of the thickest part of the anklet on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my will, lifted the hammer, and slammed it down on the top of the anklet. I missed my skin entirely, but the impact let out a shrill screech of alarm and a wave of electricity that ran up through my leg to jolt my senses enough that I toppled over. It was a minute or two of twitching and Ansel calling me before awareness of what was happening wobbled into my brain. I realized I was splayed out on the cold floor of a basement. “Sophia!” Ansel was repeating. I gave in to the urge to groan pathetically, rolled over onto my side and—for the hundredth time that day—thanked my stars I had nothing in me to vomit up. “Oh shit that hurt,” I croaked. “My whole—I can’t—oh goddess.” “Are you okay? What happened! What—are you okay? Can you get up?” “I think …” I swallowed, trying to moisten my dry throat, pushed into a sitting position, and turned to face the dark, wobbly lump that was Ansel chained to a wall. “That was a bad idea.” “What happened?” “It shocked me—electrocuted, even. That wasn’t just a jolt. Okay. Now I know why people don’t try to break out of these fuckers.” “Okay,” Ansel said, his voice a touch high. “Okay. We’ll find something else. We’ll—Try more tools. Maybe something can break the links in the chain and free me. I can take a few vampires.” “I’m sure you could,” I said, though it was mainly to placate him as I struggled to get to my feet. When I was steady and the hairs on my arms had settled back into place, I considered our options. My mind ran in circles, coming up with

nothing and I bent back over the pile of tools, picking idly through them as I tried to talk myself out of coming to the conclusion that we really had no options. I needed my fire. It was as simple as that. There was no solution that didn’t involve my fire. I couldn’t get to my fire though, not with the anklet. But I couldn’t remove the anklet, not with tools anyway. My fire probably could have destroyed it but that wasn’t happening, not without— My brain skidded to a halt, flashing back on the narrow, dark alleyway where I’d nearly killed Beau. Technically I had an option. Or, probably did anyway. Licking my lips, feeling anxiety wash over me, I took a deep breath, unable to look back at Ansel as I spoke. “I might … have something that could work.” “Okay,” he said, eager and steady. “Let’s try it. What is it? It doesn’t matter. I’m open to anything.” “Anything?” “We need a win, and I believe in you.” “Do you?” I asked, pushing to my feet and turning to face him. I still couldn’t see him as more than a dark splotch on a different shade of dark background but, honestly, the idea that I wouldn’t be able to see if he thought I was crazy and stupid helped galvanize me. Taking a deep breath, tossing the screwdriver haphazardly aside, I closed in to stand in front of him. Swallowing, I bit my lip, forced my nerves to steady, and looked up to where I was pretty sure his eyes were. “I’m going to kiss you.” Ansel was silent for a long moment, before he found his voice. Quietly, nervously, he ran through a series of sentence starts before settling on, “Kiss me?” “I can’t really explain how it might work, but I think—” “Okay.” His affirmation confused me, though it shouldn’t have. Loretta had said he was into me—or at least that he thought he was. When you’re into someone, so I’ve

heard, you generally want to kiss them. So, it shouldn’t have thrown me or sent a pleased little thrill of adrenaline through my body. It was solely for escape purposes, I told myself. It didn’t have to mean anything and we could just move back to being friends once we were safe and I’d handed Cordara’s headless, cauterized corpse over to authorities. “Okay,” I said, fighting the smile that wanted to curve my lips. I took another deep breath, tried to figure out how to go about doing what I needed to do, and thought back to what had happened with Beau. I’d just thrown myself into it then, and maybe that was the right idea. No thinking, I thought. Just action. I pushed to my tiptoes, leaning my hand on his chest to steady myself, got in close enough that I could tell where his mouth was, and went for it. The kiss was tame at first, just soft breaths and eager mouths, but he was leaning ever so slightly toward me and it settled my nerves, drawing me out. I deepened the kiss, resting my chest against his as I slid my hand around his neck into his hair. He was warm, solid, a lovely contrast to the insanity of the situation and, when I slid my other hand lightly around his ribs to his back, the chains rattled as he flexed toward me. “Damnit,” he whispered, barely audible against my lips, before taking my mouth again, more intently this time. Our breaths quickened together and I shifted to squeeze him against me aggressively as my hormones bubbled up through my veins. I couldn’t tell at first if it was my fire waking up or just the delightful, needy greed of wanting more of the person you’re physically with. Then, when Ansel let out a low moan in his throat I figured it out. It was both. I wanted him free, wanted his arms around me, his fingers denting my skin. That ion swirling inside me had kindled my fire, drawing it out of my core to rise up through my center. I took a deep breath, turning my head to the side as fear of hurting him pulled me back to my senses. Unwilling to break , Ansel kissed my jaw gently, straining into me as much as his bonds would allow. My throat tingled, my tongue warmed, and within a moment, I sighed out a puff of flame. Quick as I could, I lifted my hand, catching it in my palm, feeling my nerve endings spark. My insides were on fire, possibly literally, and—as much as my

throbbing desire fought me on it—I stumbled back, turning to breathe the flame into my other hand. I caught what I’d created inside and let it burn along my palms and up my arms. The room lit with my flame, and I could see Ansel’s hungry eyes as he stared at me. Winking his way, knowing now that there was more than enough heat inside me to do what needed to be done, I took a deep breath, cupped my flaming palms in front of my face, and blew more fire into them. I felt it spread, rushing along my skin, burning away the sewage, the garbage, the dirty clothing, and running down my body. I crouched into it, squeezed my hand around the anklet and focused my will there. A jolt jumped out of the mechanism but I was quicker, frying it, melting it before it could damage me, and when I yanked it away, it was a puddle in my palms. Fire burst out of me, angry at being repressed, furious and free, and a familiar thrill lit me up. A voice I recognized but didn’t trust hummed its pleasure through my psyche and the only thing that kept me from giving into its suggestion to explode into a mushroom cloud the size of the house was that, through the haze of heat, I could see Ansel wincing, still trapped. I fisted my hands, controlling my fire as much as I could, knowing I had to free him before I could move on to destroying my enemies. I swallowed my power, though it thrashed and fought, and moved in close enough to grasp one of the chains holding Ansel captive. I meant only to weaken it, to heat it until he could use his strength to free himself, but it turned to liquid in an instant, the heat and ferocity of my power enough to melt the metal away. Ansel gasped and, without hesitation, I sent out easy orbs of flame to chew through the rest of his bonds. He pulled away the second he could, stumbling back from me, lifting his arm to block his view as if I was the sun itself. “Sophia?” he asked, wincing. I could feel my power trying to eat at him, trying to destroy him, though it settled for singeing the hairs along his skin. “Are you— are you okay?” “Go,” I said, and my voice was not my own. He needed to leave, but some part of me wanted him to stay, to see if he went up any easier than the ass-grabber had. I panicked deep inside, my affection for him calming my power a smidge, wresting control away enough that I had the sense to toss my flame toward the

basement door next, chewing at it with flame. Ansel jumped, but didn’t go. Frustration roiled through me and I gestured. “Go!” “Sophia, we—” “We nothing,” I said, fire spewing out of my mouth with each word. We couldn’t be together, I realized, not in any sense of the word, and especially not now. Giving up on convincing him to leave, I started toward the door. “You need to get out. I need to see a vampire about burning this place to the ground.” My fire leapt from my shoulders, from my hips, off my thighs, and dribbled off my fingers as I ascended the stairs. I didn’t bother yanking at the collapsing, burning door; heat exploded off me in a wave that weakened the hinges and blew it outward in flaming shards. I hoped idly, deep inside my mind, that Ansel made it up the stairs before they burned to the ground and the walls around him went up in smoke. A vampire rushed me as I emerged from the basement and my power flung itself his way before I had even realized he was approaching. It wrapped itself around him, devouring him in an instant. He couldn’t even scream before he was a pile of ash on the floor and my fire was back with me. “Cordara,” a voice called, singing through my mouth, puppeteering me as the vampire had threatened to do. “Let’s have some fun.” I rounded the corner into the living room and found her standing boldly amongst a group of her lackeys, vampires old enough to do some damage, but too young to be of any threat to me in my current state. Distantly I could hear Ansel calling my name, begging me to come with him, to leave and go to the authorities. My power laughed at him in my head, focused entirely on the asshole vampire who’d ruined my month. We locked eyes and the battle of wills began between her power and mine.

20

I could feel Cordara in my head, a peculiar sensation I’d never experienced before. I’d been thralled, despite the illegality of it, usually by a vampire I’d been authorized to kill, and I knew better than to look a dangerous vampire directly in the eyes. I hadn’t taken such a precaution with Cordara, though, maybe because I was mad with power or maybe just because I was mad. She’d hired some stupid bloodsucker to frame me for murder, she’d held Ansel and me captive, and she’d itted to planning to murder me. Generally you need a kill order for anyone—vampire or not—but I figured that under the circumstances I could claim self-defense and fry her ass. That certainty was probably why I was standing in a suburban home, staring down a crabby, old vampire asshole and risking staring her right in the eyes. Her power was smooth but forceful, rooting around in my brain like it wanted to get hold but couldn’t. I don’t know what kept her at bay, but when enough time ed that she realized she couldn’t achieve dominance over me, she lashed out. I missed it entirely as she blurred toward me in an explosion of speed. I think she aimed to hit me or grab me, but I was still on fire—as was everything within arms reach, though it didn’t worry me—and she failed at that too. She was across the room, and then suddenly right next to me, shrieking in rage as a long dagger, or maybe a short sword, dropped in a splashing river to the carpet below. She’d been smart enough not to try to hit me with her own flesh, but my power was too great to allow a blade through. I’d melted it without even trying, having only felt something thump against my fire like an angry neighbor banging on a shared wall. “Sophia! Please!” “Ansel,” I growled, turning to him, rage bristling through me. Why the hell wasn’t he leaving? “Go! I freed you, take advantage of it and get the hell out!” “You can’t do—”

“I can!” I argued, flames expanding out of me toward him, catching the ceiling and the end table at the edge of the couch. “I can do whatever I want, don’t you understand?” Movement pulled my attention back toward Cordara, and I realized she’d called in reinforcements. Three more vampires rushed me and met the same fate as the one who’d been guarding the basement door. Ansel wailed in shock and I realized he’d missed the start of the show and hadn’t seen my power up close before. I bared my teeth at him, unsure if I was grinning or threatening him. “For your own damn good, get the hell out!” “No,” Cordara said, her voice calling to us both. “Stay. Play.” I realized what she was doing a second before she did it, but I wasn’t fast enough to stop her. Next thing I knew, Ansel’s shoulders dropped, his posture loosened, and he turned to me with a blank expression. “Play with Sophia,” Cordara purred. “Break her like a doll.” Ansel rushed forward and it froze me. My power, the fury inside, tensed and prepared to lash out, to grab him and eat at him as it had done with the vampires. My affection for him stopped it, making me still and indecisive. Ansel, thralled and careless about his own well being, backhanded me, even as I could feel my fire grasp onto his arm and sink into his skin like a swarm of ticks. He let out a shocked cry as I hit the ground, but the impact of his super-human strength disoriented me enough that I lost track of reality for a bit. Cordara was laughing somewhere off to my right, Ansel was grunting and wailing quietly, slapping at my flame. I worried my jaw was broken, I still felt pain from the splinters that had lived in my skin until I’d burned them away, and I had smacked my shoulder on the edge of the couch as I’d gone down. The living room was flaming around me, pain was making me stupid, and my power hated it all. Yowling, feeling my core tighten as magic built itself upon a foundation of agony and frustration, I rolled onto my back, took a deep breath, and screamed. That’s the way, my power whispered, pleased with my rage. Let it loose, tear the place down. Dismantle the walls board by board. Eat away at the life inside, let

it fuel us. We are more powerful than these lowly creatures and we can have it all. I wanted to heed its suggestion, to let loose the heat at my core and send it straight for Cordara. Killing her would end the thrall and free Ansel. Hell, it would probably free me. What lawyers would work for a dead vampire who couldn’t pay them? Brad’s confession would undo what she’d done. That’s it. We can handle the rest. Pete’s soft, weak, easily turned to ash. And Penelope? My power laughed in my head, and I felt myself smiling, chuckling quietly. What water elemental can stand against us? None. She started this fire, she deserves to get burned. “Yes,” I whispered, opening my eyes to find the house was going down around me. I was going to get crushed by the beams in the ceiling if I didn’t get up and leave. Thinking only of my own preservation, of the delightful pleasure I would take in setting a water elemental on fire and watching her weep, unable to stop me from eating through her skin, I sat up. Ansel was burning, not as fast as a vampire, but still burning. I gasped, grasping for my fire and pulling it off him, struggling with it like fighting a lion for a piece of steak. It growled in my head, clinging to him, excited by the fact that it had burned away much of his flesh. The smoke in the room alone would have killed him, but I knew that, if I didn’t manage to get him safe, it would be the fire that slowly, horrifically consumed him. Leave him! my power screamed in my head, thrashing as I growled back. “No.” The fire eating at Ansel leapt toward me like eager imps, abandoning him and leaving him a moaning, charred husk. Cordara was gone, as were her flunkies, and the only things I could feel my fire destroying were inert: the house, the furniture, the foliage outside the one wall I’d already eaten through. I needed to get Ansel out of there before he got crushed or suffocated. I couldn’t touch him without hurting him, not while I was still on fire, and my power was still fighting me, screaming at me in my own head, throwing a tantrum that I was sure would destroy my psyche if it went on too much longer. “Just let me save him,” I mumbled, pleading with my own goddamned brain.

“Then you can burn down the whole fucking neighborhood. Then we’ll hunt Cordara and slowly burn her to death while she writhes and screams. Just … Please. I can’t let Ansel die.” My power calmed a bit, happy with the proposed compromise, slowing its thrashing to a manageable level. I swallowed, pushed to my feet, and lifted my hands in front of my face. Focusing on my fingers I began there, moving the flames up my arms like rolling up sleeves. The fire grumbled in my head but let it all happen. Before I knew it, my skin was bare. Knowing it was going to hurt him, but also knowing it was the only way to save him, I grabbed Ansel’s arm, wincing at the ruin of it, took a deep breath, and dragged him toward safety. My power cleared a path for me, almost as if on its own, dimming into the carpets, sucking into the walls, or crawling away from the areas I needed to so that it didn’t accidentally burn him. It took ages to get him outside, but once he was free of the flame, lying burnt and seeping in the street, I let myself take stock of the scene around me. The house I’d stepped out of was not the only one on fire and, like with Cup Off, I knew the rest of the flames were not my own. The neighborhood was blazing, an entire street full of collapsing, smoking, soonto-be husks belching out flames and embers. The sky was a haze, and my power was loving it. I hadn’t started these fires, but I knew who had. I knew this fire well, better than I should have, more intimately than one elemental should know the flames of another. “Mickey,” I mumbled, wondering where he was, hoping he was safe. He’d been a goofy dude when we’d known each other, and seemed just as silly and kind when we’d chatted at the club. This wouldn’t have been something he’d do on purpose, I knew. Somehow, inexplicably, even as my power hummed in my head and tried to talk me out of it, I knew I had the power to stop it all. You’re so boring, my power lamented as I did a quick turn, surveying the scene around me and trying to prepare myself for what I needed to do. And I don’t like boring. “I don’t care what you like,” I mumbled, reaching for the flames around me,

grasping them, and knowing that, with just a quick slap of magic, I could put them all out. Then I don’t care what you want, my power fired back, abandoning me in an instant, leaving me unprotected from the flames of another elemental. The inside of my head, the crux of my power, and the essence of my very psyche singed in an instant, hurting worse than anything I’d ever experienced. I’ve been burned before, though not as badly as a non-fire elemental. I can handle heat better than most, can generate it for myself, and rarely come across fire that bothers me much. My own flames can’t hurt me, other fire elementals and I either get along, or steer clear of each other, and the only buildings I’d burnt down had collapsed after I’d been hauled out or had left on my own two feet. But, hunched on the ground, gripping the flames of a dozen burning houses, I knew what it was to come up against a fire elemental and lose. I hadn’t grabbed for them with my actual hands, couldn’t touch them from where I was, not with my skin, but I still ended up burned. Whatever magic protected me from flame had abandoned me, stepped aside to let me suffer on my own and I didn’t know how to handle the agony of it. My knees ached from where they’d hit the ground as I’d collapsed. my forehead was warm from being pressed into the pavement that was still retaining heat from the sun, even though night had fallen. I could smell my own breath puffing around me as I hunched in a ball, chin against my own chest. I could feel my own fire, dancing through the house I’d abandoned, unfettered by my conscience or my control. It had left me, sprinted across the gap between one house to another, somehow managing to steal all the oxygen fueling Mickey’s power and taking the place of the dying flames. My fire was the dominant magic and nothing was going to stop it from getting the last laugh as the homes collapsed. “No,” I whispered, barely audible even to myself. “You can’t do this.” I didn’t do this, my power argued. But I can enjoy it. So could you, if you’d just let yourself. “I don’t enjoy this,” I argued, shaking my head. “I’ll never enjoy destruction, killing. I’m not evil.”

Mortals! my power spat. This is why we’ve abandoned you, left you and your foolish, backward morals. You see concepts that don’t exist, such as good and evil, and you believe they should rule you. You sicken me. My magic had a voice, a strong, feminine tone that I’d never heard before, but that sounded infinitely familiar. This wasn’t just my fire, fighting with me and demanding I let it loose to burn through a vampire or a perceived threat. This was … a creature, a being with its own personality and drive, its own desires and opinions. I wasn’t just fighting with the urge to burn, I was arguing with something living in my head, something that would tear me apart if I didn’t find a way to compromise. “What do you want?” I asked, planting my hands deliberately on the ground and pressing myself upward until I was kneeling. “What do I have to do to get you to help me stop this?” My power was quiet, settled for the moment, perplexed by the question, by my sudden willingness to cooperate. I swallowed hard and realized my face was wet, streaked with tears. I could still feel the fires burning around me—especially the one I’d started, since it had spread across four more houses, eating Mickey’s fire until it was simply gone—but it was different. No longer could I feel it like brushing my hand over a hot grill, but more like feeling the ambient rise in temperature from turning on a heater in a home. I want a say, my magic said finally, tamed slightly. I want you to listen to me, to heed my advice and my desires. No longer do I want to live in a dark hole, complacent and quiet. I didn’t return just to watch uselessly from the shadows. “If I listen to you, you’ll stop this? You’ll put out these fires?” If you wish, my fire sighed, annoyed by the idea, but legitimately willing to give in. “Deal,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was agreeing to, but I was desperate. I needed to end this, to get back control over my own magic, over myself. I needed to make sure nothing reached Ansel, that no one had been inside any of the houses and that, if anyone had been, they could be rescued. My power laughed at that, but I staunchly ignored it, not wanting to know if it thought I was foolish for having comion, or stupid for having hope.

Deal. Nothing seemed different at first. Ansel was still burned all over, Cordara was still missing, everything was still on fire, and I still had no idea what I was going to do to solve it all. Then, as I took a deep breath, pushed to my feet, and considered how it felt to have my power gripping the flames, I realized something had changed. There you go, my power whispered with no small amount of sarcasm. I frowned but figured I had better things to do than argue with something that may or may not have just been a symptom of a psychotic break. Instead, I flexed my magic, felt every flame in the area, no matter how small, take notice of me, and then I shut them down. Darkness fell, leaving me blinking at the dancing light still waving across my vision, and I took a moment to just stand quietly. The neighborhood was silent, no sirens, no screaming, no crackling flames, but smoke still choked the air. Dimly, I knew that I should be coughing, bothered by the smoke filling my lungs, but I wasn’t. Ansel, though, he needed to be taken to a hospital or a healer, or he was going to be left damaged, scarred, or maybe dead. Everything seemed distant, though, less important than it had seemed a few moments ago, and I wasn’t really sure what my rush had been. Cordara had been trying to kill me, sure, but she couldn’t, not now. Even if she’d been standing directly in front of me, she couldn’t have gotten to me in time to overpower me. I was invincible now, in control of not only my fire, but everyone else’s. I would no longer be a slave to my temper, to my urges. I could do whatever I wanted, and no one could stop me. That’s it, my power said, and I could feel it grinning somewhere deep inside, proud of me. I liked the iration, but it wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. You’re getting it. You’re seeing the reality of what’s happened here, of how things will be from now on. Your life’s going to change. Everything will be different, better. We can move on from this, put a stop to the abuse you’ve suffered, and realize our true potential. Come now. “Where?” I asked, barely making a sound. I turned to face Ansel, watching him breathe shallowly on the ground. Something wasn’t right. It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s not here. Let’s go.

“I can’t,” I whispered, closing in to kneel next to him. He was in shit shape and I needed to fix it. No, he’ll be fine. Werewolves are hearty. Let’s go. We’ll find Cordara, ash her, and then track down Pete and Penelope. They need to hurt. “No,” I said aloud for the first time in minutes. Ansel needed my help and I wasn’t going to leave him. “Shut up. I need a phone.” You don’t— “Shut up!” I screamed, lighting the night with a puff of flame I hadn’t felt coming up through my chest and across my tongue. I took a deep breath, got to my feet, and turned to scan the neighborhood. Most of the homes were collapsed, dilapidated, useless and—goddess willing—empty of victims. But some at the far end of the carnage looked like they might hold hope. Fine. I’ve pushed you too far too fast. Do what you need to do. But we will discuss this later. Ignoring my power, feeling it settle quietly in my chest like a hibernating bear, I took off for the nearest viable house. I kicked down the door when I got there, nearly fell on my face when it caved in easier than I was expecting, and … froze. It was empty, bare of decor. I moved room to room, but found I’d had the misfortune of finding a house that must have been up for sale. Leaving, I sprinted to the next house, found it was the same. Naked, not bothering to hide my nudity with flame, I moved down the line of burnt shells, found I’d been kidnapped and brought to an empty housing development. In the end, I found a temporary office, down the street, barely touched by the destruction, though the flags outside advertising the prices and models had taken a beating. I blew the door off its hinges, moved straight to the first desk I saw, and grabbed the phone there. “Please work,” I mumbled, before attempting to dial. It worked, I let out a long sigh of relief and then straightened up, hoping I could get through to someone who would believe my story.

21

I didn’t end up telling my story, which worked out for the best. Once the emergency dispatcher heard that I’d had a man who needed help, she’d sent a medical rig right away. There had been no shortage of confusion once the paramedics had found me sitting in the middle of an empty street, huddled in my jacket to keep my dignity intact. Luckily, they’d gotten to work on Ansel immediately, gave me a blanket to cover up, and promised to call Beau. I looked up from the back of the rig when he called my name, meeting his gaze but unable to smile. “What happened? Where did—what happened?” he asked. I swallowed, got to my feet, and gestured to Ansel. The paramedic who’d healed and bandaged the worst of his injuries jerked her head in greeting at Beau, and then caught my eye. “Good?” “Yeah, please.” I stepped away from the truck so she could shut the doors and drive off. Beau waited until they were half a block away and we were alone in a small pocket of quiet, and then gestured to the chaos going on in the near distance. “What the hell happened?” “Cordara grabbed us. She’s behind everything.” “Is?” Beau asked, tensing and darting his gaze around quickly. “Or was?” “Is. I haven’t killed her.” “But you burned down the neighborhood trying?” “That wasn’t me,” I said, rubbing my hand over my face. “Can we please leave? I already told the brigade what I could and they said I could go. Everything else is just search and rescue—though I hope it stops at search and no one’s actually

in need of rescue.” “I’ve checked, none of the houses are occupied, as yet.” “Yeah, but there could be squatters or … unlucky joggers, I don’t know.” Beau watched me for a moment, but rather than addressing my concern, he asked quietly, “Cordara’s still out there?” “Somewhere. She ran off when I couldn’t be thralled.” Beau was noticeably silent, considering me seriously for a long time. He wasn’t a big talker, but there were times where I could tell his silence was actually saying quite a lot. I sighed, lifted my gaze to meet his, and waited for him to process. I didn’t really care if he believed me, not in that moment. I just wanted a ride home. After an eternity, he gestured back the way he’d come, and fell into step with me. “I’ll take you home. You can explain on the way.” “I can explain after I shower and get dressed,” I corrected. “Unless you’re going to slap another anklet on me and throw me in prison.” “Home,” Beau said quietly. “I’ll take you home. No anklet, no cell. You can explain when you’re ready.” I didn’t agree or disagree, if only because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be ready.

I took a cold shower, not because I had no other option but because I needed to feel something other than heat. My temperature was up, possibly because I could feel my power curled inside me, waiting for the opportunity to sit up and perform again. It would be easy to call it forth, easier than ever before, and in ways I’d never been able to manage. Instead of conjuring tiny flames big enough to light maybe a candle, I knew now I could call up entire blazing fireplaces worth of warmth from across a room. No longer was I bound to setting fire to only what I could touch. I hadn’t tried on this new power, not on purpose, but I could feel it inside me, waiting. Beau was waiting too, sitting calmly on the couch when I came out after my shower, and I frowned at him, even though I knew he’d be there. He’d been patient, letting me sit in silence on the drive, not asking anything before I’d disappeared into my room to shower and clean up. It was time to pay the piper and, as usual, I was flat broke. “I thought about ordering you food, but it looks like you’ve got enough in the fridge,” he said, slipping his phone into his inner breast pocket. “I’m not hungry,” I said, thinking about how my fire had fed on Ansel’s flesh and, to a lesser extent, the vampires I’d killed. It wasn’t the same as eating a hearty meal, but sating my magic had a similar effect, which was new. Too many fresh developments to keep track of, I thought, sitting down next to Beau. I didn’t face him or engage him, staring forward, folding my hands into my lap, and facing the wall. He was quiet for a bit, before speaking as if I’d asked him what had gone on in my absence. “Everyone believed Catherine when she said you’d attacked her, perhaps because she’s usually so trustworthy and unimpeachable.” “You say that like you think she’s lying.” Beau was quiet and I had a feeling, even without looking at him, that the smile on his face was knowing and smug. Without addressing my comment, he continued on.

“We went after you, sending trackers into the sinkhole you fled through, but they lost you at the first intersection in the sewer. The depth and the pipes masked the anklet’s signal and even our best men couldn’t tell your scent over the … rest of the odors down there. Not a bad way to flee the cops, all things considered.” “I considered all things and you’re wrong; it was a pretty miserable way to flee the cops.” This time, I could hear Beau’s smile as he continued. “Well, at least you smell of yourself once again. The trackers jumped into action when you popped up at that seedy motel, but we got there too late. You left a mess and the story the ladies told of you was impressive. Two vampires with no fire?” “One hardly counted. He was a baby.” I turned to face Beau, my frown a challenge. “Did you speak to him? Or to Catherine after he spoke with her?” “I did. It seems Mezzeluna had more going on in that lab than we figured, though how it’s leaked out when you destroyed everything I have no idea.” Beau made a thoughtful sound. “We’ll have to ask Cordara, as it seems she’s responsible for Brad’s transformation.” “You’ve sent people after her?” I turned to him, my brow knit. “I’ve gotten word to the relevant authorities to request her presence at Central.” “That’s it?” I demanded, feeling my temper threaten to bubble. “You’re just going to request her presence? She tried to kill Ansel!” “And you.” “She could never hurt me,” I said dismissively, shaking my head. “She’s a waste of fangs, but she needs to be punished.” “I agree, but it’s not that simple. She’s a prominent member of vampire society with money and influence in many different areans. It’s going to, sadly, take more than your word to convict her.” “But you believe me?” I asked. Beau nodded slowly, but his eyes darted. “I’ve set things in motion as best as I could while you were in the shower, but we

will need more than your word.” “I could always find her and deal with her myself,” I said quietly. “Sophia—” Beau cut off and we stared at each other for a long time. He seemed to be trying to figure me out and I didn’t bother giving him anything to work with. My magic settled again, my temper with it, and I closed my eyes as I took a deep breath. “What else?” “Brad’s been sequestered. Catherine’s taking precautions to make sure no one can get to him, just in case Cordara tries something to shut him down. Chances are, though, that the men she sent to persuade him to play the part have never heard of her. I’m sure she has several dominoes in line to take the fall, and none of it will even get back to her without a great deal of effort and luck on our part.” “Who else is running?” “Running?” “For Magistrate,” I said, my gaze dropping thoughtfully. “She said she meant to get her man into the position, that taking you out was the goal, and using me to do so was a perk. Go through her stalking horse.” “There are several candidates in the race, but that is something to think about. I’ll make some inquiries.” “Don’t you assholes have a way to shut this whole thing down?” “To which assholes are you referring?” Beau asked, his tone making me bark out a quick laugh. “Vampires. You’ve got these old jackasses running things, and they presumably want to keep the status quo. Don’t tell me you idiots don’t have secret society rules meant to deal with this sort of thing. Every group has its own law, its own rules, its own boss dickheads who don’t like to be crossed. Can’t Grandpa Cravat from the club deal with her? Or at least turn her into the correct authorities?” “Grandpa—Ah.” Beau went quiet again, his expression inscrutable. I got the

feeling I had hit the nail on the head with my suspicions about how vampires secretly handled their own, but I knew he wasn’t going to confirm. After a moment, he pressed on as if the subject had demanded to be changed and neither of us had a choice. “You disappeared off the radar shortly after you appeared on it again and no one had any idea what had happened until you called me. Cordara somehow managed to deactivate the tracking on your anklet, though how she got rid of it completely, we’re not sure. It hasn’t been found in the wreckage of the building in which you said you were being held, and they’re very well-warded. Did she remove it? Take it with her? Perhaps we could find a way to reactivate it and—” “I burned it,” I said matter-of-factly. “To liquid. Like I said, your wards were lacking. I managed to bust right through them.” “They were not lacking,” Beau said quietly, his eyes going a touch more gold, as I’d seen them do in the past when something excited him. “They were quite fresh, well-laid. No elemental, fire or not, could break through them. And yet you did.” “Cordara must have—” “No,” Beau said forcefully. “Even if she has a dozen ward technicians in her pocket, she couldn’t have broken the wards on our anklets. They’re kept under strict guard—it doesn’t matter. You broke them because, as I’ve said, Sophia, you’re special.” “Damnit, Beau,” I said, annoyed with him in a way that made my nerves jump. I pushed to my feet, intent on pacing nervously, but he followed me upward, grabbed my arm, and spun me to face him. He watched me intently for just long enough that I worried for a tenth of a moment that he might kiss me. Then, without warning or asking, he yanked me close, bent over, and bit my throat.

This feels nice, doesn’t it, my power whispered, pulling me out of the fog I’d been floating through. What? I asked, without speaking. I felt so nice and loose, like I didn’t even have a body or magic or a rap sheet or a pair of super powered men yearning to make out with me. All there was in the world was pleasure, a soft, sweet comfort. The vampire, my magic whispered back, stretching, bumping at me, dislodging me from the feeling of easy contentment I was resting in. He’s at your neck, drinking your blood. That venom does nice things to a girl, even a bad one like yourself. “Venom?” I asked, croaking out actual sound this time. The movement jarred my body enough that I realized the warmth and good feelings seemed to be centered in one spot, radiating outward from … from a stinging pain. A stinging pain in my neck. You ruined it. Beau was sucking my blood, holding me close, using his strength and size to hold me flush against him as his lips and throat worked to draw my life essence out of me through the holes he’d jammed into my flesh. It felt great but, damnit, he hadn’t asked permission, and I was going to kill him for that. Are you really? Ignoring my power’s lack of faith in my rage, I shoved at Beau, risking tearing my throat open further, putting flame behind the force, lighting him up intentionally this time, heaving him with an explosion of heat to slam into the wall of my shack. I opened my eyes as he hit, fisting my hands and stomping toward him two steps before pausing. I didn’t need to touch him for this, I ed. I could have burnt him to a crisp from ten, twenty, a hundred paces away. Already, my fire was consuming his shirt, his expensive suit jacket, up over his sculpted shoulders and down his back. I let it go to an extent, though I knew that, ultimately, I had full control. This time, it wouldn’t accidentally spread to the walls of my home, to my rug, across the grass and foliage to Ansel’s mansion, or out into the street to affect other massively expensive homes. I was in control, not the fire, though I would let it play.

Beau stood, prideful despite my fire roving along his skin like an excited lover’s hands. He caught my eye, the corners of his lips quirking. We stared down for a bit as my fire fed and I realized, once the blood seeping from my throat had soaked my left shoulder, that he wasn’t burning. His clothes were, rapidly. Quickly and easily enough that I was going to be seeing some full-frontal vampire nudity if I didn’t put a stop to it soon. Swallowing, shaking my head in disbelief, I snuffed out every flame, took a deep breath of the smoky air as if it were a fresh sea breeze, and then headed for the kitchen to grab a towel to staunch the bleeding in my neck. “It’ll stop soon,” Beau said, looking down over his nearly naked body, before looking back up to me with a smirk. “If you’d like me unclothed, you need only ask.” I shook my head, trying to reconcile what I was seeing with what I’d felt—both from my power and within my stupid emotions. “Why aren’t you dead?” I asked, though I knew the answer. I pressed a towel to my neck, but I could already tell I didn’t need it. “Did you wish me so?” Beau asked, following me into the kitchen, cupping his hand over mine. He held it there until I looked up into his eyes, and then he tipped our hands and the towel back. “There you go, you’ve clotted.” We stared at each other in stillness for awhile before curiosity got the better of me and I reached out, pressed my palm to his perfect skin, and let my fire burn. It hit his skin like it did my own, crawling over the surface rather than gripping and tearing and chewing. Switching his grip, he moved to grab my other hand, dipping his fingers into my flame as if it were no more threatening than a glass of still water. “I told you,” Beau said quietly, still holding my gaze with his lovely eyes. “You’re very special.” He’s not wrong, my power whispered, urging me forward. It was like feeling a hand gently press against my spine as a suggestion, rather than an outright shove. I didn’t give in. “I can’t do this, Beau,” I said quietly, knowing what he wanted and trying to

ignore the fact that I wanted it myself. He didn’t argue or press or bite me again. He waited a beat, possibly considering doing all those things, and then nodded, stepping back. “You needed to see,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to have forced the realization on you so suddenly.” “Sorry about your suit,” I said, swallowing, stepping to drop the bloody rag into the trash. “It was warded you know,” Beau said, making me jerk my gaze toward him. My power laughed quietly in my head and I felt a thin wriggle of panic run up my spine. It was like they were ganging up on me. “Not as severely as your anklet, but still warded.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Grabbing another rag out of the cabinet, I ran it under water, swiping at my throat to clean the blood off. Giving up after a bit, realizing I was going to need to shower, I sighed, turning to face Beau again. “I just want to fix everything. I just—I need to get everything back under control. We need to find Cordara and stop her.” “She’s not your only problem, you know.” “You mean Winchell Wimp-ass Weiner?” “The werewolf, yes. He’s not going to back down, not after the way you humiliated him. And there are the businesses you destroyed.” “Business, singular. I only burned one down. The other was a frame job. By a bitch who stole my damn coat.” “She stole your coat?” “Yes!” I argued. “I swear I told you this. She wore it on TV and everything. Even though it doesn’t fit her.” “I just hadn’t considered …” Beau went quiet and I could see the rays of yellow and gold shining in his eyes. He was up to something, or wanted to be, at least. “That could be a good thing in the end. Are you okay to be alone?”

“Always,” I said, hoping he knew I meant it in every possible sense of the word. Well, my power amended. Not anymore. “Get some rest, eat something. I’ll call you in a bit.” “I’m going to visit Ansel. I can’t leave him alone, not after we—” I cut off, not really sure what part of the awful evening I had been about to reference. Beau nodded, but caught himself, catching my gaze as if he’d just realized something unsettling. I swallowed the lump in my throat and Beau gave a slow nod. “Give him my best.” My power only chuckled.

22

For a wanted fugitive, it was remarkably easy for me to get into Ansel’s hospital room. I expected to have to fight my way through a crowd of lawyers or at least show ID and sign in, but all I had to do was give his name at the desk and they sent me right up. He looked better, healed, but apparently not enough that they wanted to let him leave. “Hey,” I said quietly, slipping in and letting the door shut. He looked over, brightened immediately, and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Oh, no. Stay —you’re fine.” “You’re okay!” he said, ignoring my request and reaching for me. He yanked me into a hug the moment I was close enough and my heart went bonkers, nerves and adrenaline throwing a rave through my body. “I was so worried. No one could tell me what happened.” “You don’t ?” I asked, easing myself back out of his grip to pretend I was just looking for a chair and not creating space between us. “I know you burned me,” he said casually, making my shoulders tense. “But I know you didn’t mean to. Just like I didn’t mean to attack—well, to try to attack you. I’m sorry for that.” “Sorry for me nearly killing you?” I asked, shaking my head and lowering myself slowly into a chair. “You were thralled, you did nothing wrong.” “I know. Technically I know that, and believe me, I’m going to make sure she pays, but I still feel bad for going after you, for threatening you at all.” “Ansel—” I started, intending on telling him to stop feeling sorry for himself. He interrupted, leaning out to set his hand on my shoulder. “I have money, influence. I don’t use it, haven’t been part of that world in a decade, but I can step back in if needed. And it’s needed now. What this—” I got

the feeling he paused to avoid a very nasty word, but he kept going quickly enough that I couldn’t tell him he was free to use whatever insulting language he wanted. “—this vampire’s done to you, I will make sure it’s undone. Vampires have gotten a free for too long, taking advantage of people, using their age, their wealth, their power to keep their mistakes in the shadows. I’m going to bring them all into the light—into the sun, starting with Cordara.” “You really don’t have to—” “I want to,” Ansel said, a snarl creeping over his face. I frowned, realizing that the muscles there weren’t symmetrical. I’d burned his face bad enough that I’d done damage to the muscles underneath. My heart jumped into my throat and I had to swallow hard to keep it from squeezing a guilty sob out through my lips. “I want to fix this, not just because you don’t deserve what’s happened to you, but because vampires need to be stopped, they need to learn. If I have to, I’ll pull all my resources from the campaign and direct them at stopping Cordara. And the people she’s influenced. The café owner, what was her name?” “I’m not telling you,” I said, though I couldn’t recall if I already had. Everything was so mixed up, I didn’t know what he knew. Hell, I barely knew what I knew. You should let him play white knight, fix things for you. We’ll be better off in the end. “No,” I said, before realizing I’d answered a voice in my damn head. Attempting to save face, I met Ansel’s eyes. “You need to focus on getting better, on healing the damage I did. I’ll get my own shit together.” “I just need another day here and I’ll be fine. They got to me quick enough that the damage isn’t even that bad.” Yeah, my power said, its tone grating. Not that bad. You only burnt him over eighty percent of his body, he’s fine. So he can’t move his cheeks equally, no one needs their cheeks. “Damnit,” I breathed, hoping this voice in my head would die down and shut up eventually. It had before. Maybe I just had to wait. And maybe Ansel and Beau don’t want to slide into bed with you.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said, pushing to my feet to keep from screaming at my own brain in public and looking like a crazy person. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay and you are. I’ve got—I need to get some stuff done.” “I’ll see you at home?” I dropped my gaze, rubbing my hand over my face in frustration. Speaking muffled into my palm I agreed. “Yeah.” “Get some rest,” Ansel suggested. Without looking at him, I turned and headed toward the door. Cordara was standing in the doorway, blocking my exit. “Holy shit,” I hissed, jumping back. She grinned, which made my power scoff. This bitch, it quipped. Get rid of her.. “What?” Ansel asked, “What’s wrong?” “Her!” I yelled, flailing my arm at the vampire, calling fire to my palm more effortlessly than I’d ever done before. You don’t need to touch her, ? Just burn her to the ground. “He can’t see me,” Cordara said, gliding into the room as if pulled on a skateboard by mice. Her dress was less outrageous that it had been at the house, but still unnecessarily fancy. Pale pink silk flowed down her body, hugging her hips, but billowing loosely around her calves. I hopped back, holding my hands up as if she might take a swing at me and I’d need to block. You idiot. “What’s wrong? Is something going on?” “No one can see me,” Cordara said, ignoring Ansel’s question. “I’ve thralled the building so we could meet alone and I could punish you once and for all.” “No vampire can thrall an entire building,” I said, though even I could hear the doubt in my tone. Cordara laughed, and her gaze flicked to Ansel as the sound tapered off.

“He looks better than when I left him,” she purred. “Perhaps I’ll keep him as a pet.” “Don’t you touch him,” I growled. My power gripped the edges of her stupid dress, chewing it up her legs, whispering against her skin as it went. She yowled in shock, batting at it, before realizing what she was risking and turning her murderous gaze on me again. Her thrall pushed at my psyche again, but my power only yawned. Just kill her already, good me. “I don’t want her dead,” I said, shaking my head, advancing on her as Ansel, panicked at the state of me, continued to ask what the hell was going on. I heard the nurse call button beep, but ignored it, focused only on Cordara. “I want her to pay, to rot in a cell with a muzzle so she can’t bite anyone. I want her warded into uselessness, unable to thrall anyone. Actually.” Ooh, I like this idea. Giving up on burning away her clothes, ignoring the pleased little hum my power sent through me, I grabbed at Cordara’s eyeballs with my magic and turned them to ash in an instant. The scream she let out startled Ansel, pulling his gaze off me to her as she collapsed into a heap on the ground. I could feel her supernatural healing fighting my own power, trying to regenerate, but each bit of eyeball it restored I seared away, leaving her blinded and burning. “What the—where did she come from?” Nurses stepped in, jolted at the sight of a writhing woman on the floor, turned to yell for security, and then looked to me with panic. It was effortless to keep Cordara blinded, and I smiled at them. “I’ve got her. Call Central, would you? Tell them they have a fugitive to pick up.” “When—how long has she been here?” Ansel asked, staring in horror as Cordara clutched at her eyes, yowling in rage and pain. She slipped into a language I didn’t recognize and it made me wonder how old she really was. I didn’t have an explanation for the power she could wield over the minds of others, but if she really was over a thousand years old, maybe that was why. I’d have to ask Beau

next time I saw him. “I’m not sure, but she was going to kill me.” “She’s not now?” “She can’t,” I said, turning to smile at him. My power was purring in my chest, pleased with the way I was using it to punish my enemy. It whispered Penelope’s name, suggested we follow up a visit to her by finding Pete. I swallowed, faltering a little in my confidence, and then stepped back from Cordara. I really hoped the cops showed up soon. “Get a muzzle on her,” Ansel ordered, turning to slide out of his hospital bed. He couldn’t stand easily, and I realized that his wounds were worse than they looked when he’d been covered up by blankets. “And warded cuffs, would you?” The nurses nodded, taking his orders without hesitation. I pulled my gaze from the scars along his left leg up to his face and found him smiling sadly at me. I swallowed, took a step back, and fought the urge to flee. I had to at least stay until Cordara was taken care of. Then I could flee.

The vampire’s here to chew on you again. “Shut up,” I said, pulling the door open and shaking my head at the look Beau was giving me. “Not you.” “You have company?” “It’s a long story. What’s up?” Pushing past me as if I’d invited him in, Beau stepped to the center of the room, looked around as if he figured it had changed in the week since he’d been there, and then turned to smile my way. “You’re looking well.” “Not well enough for you to take another bite.” Lifting a brow, Beau took a moment as if to decide whether or not he wanted to respond to the accusation, and then pressed on. “The charges against you have officially been dropped.” “What? All of them?” Shutting the door as I shook my head in disbelief, I crossed my arms over my chest. “What about Whedon Wilton—” “The werewolf’s had a change of heart. Ansel’s very persuasive when he wants to be. It seems he’s going to be a more challenging opponent for Magistrate than I was expecting.” “So sad for you,” I said, shaking my head, and lowering my gaze. “But, really? All of them? Pete? Penelope? Gerry? It’s all gone?” “Pete was an easy sell, especially since someone reminded him that his insurance company wouldn’t pay out to a business employing a fire elemental. Without Cordara’s lawyers offering him money, he had nothing and he wasn’t okay with that. Penelope was a bit harder to convince, but funny thing, she had your coat.” “Yeah, I know.” I snarled, still able to clearly picture her fat shoulders pushing at the seams of the beautiful coat Ansel had gotten tailored just for my underfed frame. “That bitch snaked it before she set the fire. I bet she didn’t think I’d

notice in all the commotion.” “I don’t know what she wanted with it; it barely fit her. She’s half your height and … Well, it didn’t fit her.” “I know,” I repeated. “Did you get it back? Did you punch her in the nose and wrestle it off and shove her face-first in a ditch?” “I didn’t have to. I didn’t see her at all, actually. But, between Ansel’s men and the fine arson detectives working her case, it was revealed pretty quickly that, had she fled in a panic after you maliciously set the place ablaze, she wouldn’t have had a chance at the coat at all. Nor would she have had reason to barricade the door at the back of her shop, or grab her own personal items. After a bit of hemming and hawing on her part, she came clean about the whole thing. Your coat’s being cleaned as we speak. I should get it back to you in no time.” “That’s … amazing. I mean, it would have been more amazing if I’d gotten to punch her in the tit and shove her in some mud, but this is good too. So that’s it? It’s … really over?” “The fine establishment at which you confronted Brad made some noise about breaking their table and lamp, but it hasn’t developed much past that.” I grinned crookedly, thinking about the exact noises Beef had likely made. Then, thinking about his mama, I frowned. Beau pressed on, trying to explain away the frown. “You’re in the clear.” “Yeah, yeah, I … Shit,” I said, still stunned, feeling like something had to be wrong. Nothing went this smoothly for me, not even frying an egg. There had to be a catch. “There is the little matter of your license, however.” “There it is,” I said, throwing my arms up, certain he was going to say I was banned from hunting for life. “Because of your actions—escaping from custody, assaulting two vampires— your license has been suspended again. I can’t just sign off this time. You will

have to attend anger management classes.” This should be fun. “Shut up,” I mumbled, before addressing Beau, ignoring the look he gave me. “When? Where? Actually, how much?” “The fees have been taken care of, and the classes start in a week. I’ve taken the liberty of filling out the paperwork for you this time as well. When you come to Central for the first class, swing by my office to sign them.” “You couldn’t bring them here?” “I figured you’d want a reason to drop in and say hi.” “Not really,” I said, sighing. A whole week of waiting. What the hell was I going to do in my quiet moments except agonize over having to go to anger management classes? I can think of some things. I bet the vampire would be up for giving you something to do. “What about the other stuff?” I said, hoping my power should shut the hell up. “The vampires I killed defending myself? The healer Cordara forced to fix my head? Mickey? He’s not in trouble, right?” “Our friendly neighborhood fire elemental is off the hook. He’s been given a month’s leave by the club to recover from being manipulated under thrall. He doesn’t really need it, but he’s very good at his job and we’re eager to keep him happy and on staff. The healer has yet to be located, but the description you gave was lacking and Cordara isn’t speaking.” “And the vampires?” “Again, Cordara isn’t speaking, and there’s no record of any vampires in her employ going missing. Either they didn’t exist, or she was reproducing without bothering to her offspring.” “That happens?”

“Rarely, but yes.” Beau sighed. “Nothing would surprise me, not at this point, Cordara was likely senile in her old age.” “She was just an asshole,” I said, waving off his defense of her. Beau smiled at my dismissive comment when I met his eyes again. “Wait, how old is she?” Beau took a long breath, his gaze sliding away from mine. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to her age or deciding whether or not to tell me. After a long moment, he shrugged, his gaze returning to mine. I waited for elaboration, but it became clear, after a long, pregnant moment, that he was going to leave it at that vague and useless non-explanation. “Well,” I said, not feeling like pressing the issue. “Um. Thanks, or whatever.” “No really,” Beau purred, stepping in close. “Your gratitude is enough. No need to offer me sexual favors. I did it merely out of affection for you and our relationship.” “We both saw what happened last time you tried to climb into my pants, pal,” I said, stepping back. Brow lifted again, Beau grinned wider, his teeth peeking out. “If I’m not mistaken,” he said, sweeping toward me, but diverting at the last moment to reach for the door. “You tried to climb into my pants, Sophia.” He’s not wrong. “Shut up!” “See you in a week,” Beau said, stepping out into the night, ignoring my outburst and leaving the door open. I hopped in to grab it, intending on slamming it as hard as I could, but I caught sight of Ansel heading closer. He and Beau nodded genially as they ed, but didn’t speak. A little bit of panic tightened my guts and made me worry for a moment I might pee myself, but then he smiled and something in me softened. The fact that I softened sent another round of panic through me and I swore quietly to myself. “Damnit.” “What’s wrong?” Ansel asked as he stepped up onto the square of concrete

pretending to be a porch. My power cackled in my head and I groaned. “Nothing. It’s fine. What’s up?” “I haven’t seen you much this week.” He missed you! “Yeah,” I said, swallowing the outburst that wanted to come. “I’ve been busy. Even though I’m not in trouble anymore, there’s been a lot of paperwork and stuff.” “I tried to handle as much of that as I could, but the law’s the law.” “Unless you’re rich,” I said. Ansel jolted slightly as if I’d hurt his feelings and I felt guilt punch me in the gut. “I didn’t mean—damnit, sorry. I’m not good at this and there’s all this shit going on and it’s making everything worse. I can’t— I’m an asshole, I’m sorry.” “You’re not an asshole,” Ansel said, grinning sadly. I realized he was still on the porch, that he hadn’t tried to force his way in like Beau. Swallowing the soft, fuzzy feeling that threatened to cloud through me, I reached out and patted his shoulder. “You’re too kind. Like, literally, too kind. I don’t deserve you—it. I don’t deserve it.” Ansel watched me seriously, intensely, and we just stood there for a long moment, locking eyes, before he smiled softly and lowered his gaze. “I wanted to come—I mean, I came—I’m here to tell you that something else has sort of come up. I mean—” Ansel let out a nervous laugh that reminded me of the one that had come out of me just a few nights ago. It made me smile and feel a little less stupid. “Um. I’ve hired some investigators, some people whose job it is to dig up dirt. Loretta suggested them for the campaign, but I don’t want to do that, to win that way. That being said, with everything going on, with the accusations leveled at you, I figured it would be good to have them on hand. I was worried that, even with Cordara trying to kill you in the middle of a

crowded hospital, more information, more evidence might be needed to convict. I found something that I think we should look into.” “Something about her? We shouldn’t go anywhere near that,” I said, lifting my hands as if holding him off. “You should take that to Beau, to your lawyers, to anyone who isn’t me and won’t accidentally burn it to a crisp.” Accidentally? How dare you. “This isn’t really about Cordara, or not only about her. You know Dark Crescent?” “Yeah? I think so. Unless there’s another one.” “No, this is the same one you took down. They’re not actually gone.” “How? Their leader is in jail, the scientists employed to make their drugs are either out of a job or in jail—mostly the latter.” “I don’t know how, but that’s what I think we should look into.” “Why us?” I asked, taking a step back. “You should tell Beau, the cops.” “I think Beau might … be involved.” “Bullshit.” “No,” Ansel glanced back, but we both knew Beau was long-gone. He lowered his voice and continued. “No one really knows how long he was in there before bringing you out safely. The people I have working on this think he might have had the opportunity to get to information on the branches of Dark Crescent that were outside the Windsor’s purview. It grew bigger than they knew, spread further than what you were able to take down. And, if my suspicions are right, Beau knew all about it and his position as Magistrate is no accident.” “What the hell, Ansel?” “Sophia, listen.” In an uncharacteristically aggressive gesture, Ansel gripped my arms, holding me in place. “This isn’t because I don’t like him or because he’s a vampire. This isn’t personal. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he was chosen

to take over the investigation of the corrupt Magistrate, and then placed in that position? He went from investigator straight to the top. He walked out of the building without a scratch—a burning building, Sophia. He’s a vampire. You don’t think that’s suspicious? When the company he was ostensibly trying to take down made drugs that altered vampires in physical and mental ways?” “That’s not—” “His past is a mystery. More so than most vampires. He has connections and friends in low places. I’m telling you, everything my guys have dredged up makes him look bad. I think we need to do something about it.” “I …” I didn’t know what to say. Beau was an asshole, but he had lost someone in the tragedy that had killed Joey. He’d wanted to take down Mezzeluna as much as I did because he had a personal stake in things. I mean, that’s what he said anyway. You can’t pretend he’s not a skilled liar. I swallowed my argument, reevaluating my opinion of Beau in an instant, worrying suddenly that maybe Ansel was right and I’d been used as a pawn. We could always just ask him. Set him on fire a bit and see how he answers. “No,” I said, before realizing Ansel would think I was talking to him. “I mean— look. My life’s upside down right now, okay? I got a letter yesterday, from Joey’s family. They want me to come out for some … thing they do for loved ones who have ed. I missed the funeral, I don’t want to dishonor him by missing this, but it’s in three days and getting out there is a two-day drive at best. I have to go to anger management in a week, I still haven’t picked up my check from the one bounty I was able to catch while I had my license back, and I think my car needs an oil change. Can we talk about this later? Can we please just deal with this later?” “Yes, of course,” Ansel said, letting me go and leaning back. A blush touched his cheeks. “Sorry, I got too intense.” I laughed at that, shaking my head. “You don’t know intense, buddy. Look. Um. Let me think about this okay? Let me just take some time and we’ll … talk later. For now, I need to just get my shit together. So … just give me two weeks, okay?”

“Of course. Whatever you need. I can pay for the trip, you know? To—” “No, I’ve got it.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, you don’t have to keep taking care of me.” “I …” He likes taking care of you. He didn’t say the words, but I knew my power was right. Sweet, holy hell, I was in trouble. “It’s late, I should go to bed.” “Yeah.” I waved him off. “Get some sleep.” “Let me know if you … need someone to water your plants while you’re gone.” I snorted at his joke, enjoying the levity, even in the midst of everything else. He grinned, we shared another long look, and he turned to head back to his house. I watched him from the doorway for a long time, staring into the night for much longer than it had taken him to get inside. He was probably upstairs in bed, thinking serious thoughts about the state of things, plotting to take Beau down and win Magistrate. He’d use the power for good, to clean up the Underground and get small children off drugs. Ansel was a damned good guy with damned good intentions and I didn’t deserve him. Honestly, he’s probably in the shower picturing you naked. Men, am I right? “I don’t deserve any of this shit,” I growled, slamming my front door and retreating back into my sad life.

About the Author

Olivia is a vegan thirty-something living in New Mexico with a clowder of cats and a stink of litter boxes. She enjoys vexing her kitties, cooking, watching action movies, and making up collective nouns for things that don’t already have them (like a “stink of litter boxes”). You can find her and all information about her different series at OliviaRBurton.com.