Hell Bent Book One mk2y

Hell Bent Book One

Odette C. Bell

All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Hell Bent Book One Copyright © 2021 Odette C Bell Cover art stock photos licensed from Depositphotos.

www.odettecbell.com

Contents

Hell Bent Book One

Prologue

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

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

www.odettecbell.com

More Fantasy Series by Odette C. Bell

Hell Bent Book One

There’s a game in this town with a difference. Play to win, or you’ll lose to the Devil. When Mary, a witch without power, encounters the most powerful vamp in the city, she can’t run away fast enough. Seriously, trouble follows him like the plague. Or is that her? Vincent Flagstaff might be the most formidable vampire in Bridgetown, but with power comes struggle. Literally. For thousands of years, his family fought to keep the city safe from the Devil. But Lucifer requires sacrifices – blood, sweat, tears, and loss. He crafted a tournament for Bridgetown, one every strong family must send players to, or the city will fall. But Vincent has run out of players to represent him. The only way to get more? Make them family . And the only way to do that? Marry them. When Mary comes to his attention, only one thing’s on his mind. It’s on the Devil’s too, for both men have their eyes on the worst witch in town and they will until the end. …. Hell Bent is a thrilling, action-packed four-book urban fantasy. It’s complete, so you can pick it up today. It’s sure to please fans of Odette C. Bell’s Prince of Roses.

Prologue

Mary

“Begin,” a toneless, electronic voice said. Mary couldn’t move – didn’t have the time. The tournament had begun, and there was no stopping it. Amy, the sorceress, wasted no time. She shot forward, her body glowing so violently, she must’ve swallowed Hell. Mary tried to round her fists, but Amy ported two centimeters behind her skull. Mary lurched, but Amy still punched her in the back of her head. Mary fell on her front. Her eyes threatened to roll up as blood splattered from her mouth. The crowd went even wilder. They shrieked for blood, sounding like Hell hounds and not humans. The crowd was nothing compared to the Hell seal. It pulsed through the room, greedily accepting every unwitting sacrifice of the crowd’s brutal joy and Mary’s dripping blood. As Amy struck her again, Mary swore she could hear Hell – feel it rising through the shadows dancing over the electrified ring. Rising to swallow her and break this town once and for all. Amy cheered herself on, lifted her hands, danced back like a boxer, then rocked forward once more. She struck Mary, this time across the chest, and Mary went flying so high, she got airtime like a basketball. She whacked into the ring-fence protecting the tournament from the crowd. It forced her back with a ferocious sizzle of biting magic like a vice trying to crush her bones.

She fell to her side. More blood splashed from her mouth as her eyes opened in real fear. The kind of fear she’d never shown before – the kind that rose when you knew your last breath was coming, and real darn fast. “Mary,” someone called. Not someone – him. Vincent. He was out there. She couldn’t strain her head to the side and stare past the electrified fence to see him. That didn’t matter. She picked up his terror, his pulsing need to save her. He’d never get a chance to protect Mary. If she wanted to live, she had to save herself. Amy danced back again. She enjoyed this. The smile slicing over her face like a knife looking to draw a permanent scar would tell even the newest psychologist she was a psychopath through and through. She even laughed. Until Theodore, her husband and master, snarled, “Finish her now. Don’t waste time.” Theodore’s voice wasn’t even. It crackled with fear – the kind that told Mary, despite the crippling odds, he still thought she could win this. Win… this? She didn’t have a chance. The writing was on the wall – and her blood already all over the floor. She’d lose, then Theodore would win her, everything she owned, and every drop of magic in her blood. When Amy didn’t finish the fight, lifting her arms to enjoy the adoring chants of the crowd instead, Theodore strained closer to the ring, his tuxedo glinting under the crackling magic of the fence. “Finish it,” he roared. Amy paid attention. This… this was it. No more second chances. And no one to save her.

Mary Lou was going to lose, and Theodore Winchester would marry her when she did.

1

Weeks Earlier Vincent Flagstaff

“I’d try to give you some tips, but it’s not as if you need any. Just keep a cool head, sir. You can’t afford to upset the council again,” Bates said as he walked close by his boss’s side. Vincent watched him out of the corner of his eye. He watched most things like that. It wasn’t just that he was an ancestral vampire and his senses were unmatched, meaning he could pick up more information indirectly than a human could if they spent their entire life staring at the same thing. Vincent was the last of his kind in Bridgetown. He always had to ensure no one knew what he was thinking or doing. Especially now he had stepped foot inside the magical council. Bates came to a stop at the stately stairs that led up to the dark landing above. The magical council building was in the town hall. Albeit in the alternate version thereof which you could only access if you had true magical roots. Vincent had already shown his ancestral blood and been allowed entry. Now as he approached the stairs and Bates pulled back, Vincent brought up one finger. He had a short, jagged nail on his left hand. He never cut it. He required it for this very purpose. Without flinching and while looking up at the darkened landing above, he sliced it across his wrist. He cut through one of his veins, and magical blood spilled out. Great beads of it slid down his skin, staining his once pristine white Egyptian cotton cuff.

The cotton didn’t care, but the stairs did. As the first few droplets rained down onto the step below him, it lit up. It didn’t show him a direct, straight path upward and instead highlighted certain sections of each step. It was a path – one he would be at pains to take precisely. Stray from it, and he wouldn’t just miss his meeting. He’d be thrown right down into the bowels of the council building, and right down into a mini Hell. He had never known of anyone who had escaped that dungeon. But Vincent’s blood was more than bright enough to give the stairs the magical power they needed to guide him forward. “Good luck,” Bates grumbled from behind him. If Vincent were any other vampire, this was likely where he would growl at Bates to hold his tongue. Vincent needed no luck. All he required was his inherent strength and family position. It might not matter that he was now the only Flagstaff in Bridgetown. What counted was the fact his forefathers and foremothers had been the most powerful vampires on this side of the country for 300 years. Their lineage was so powerful, a single drop of Vincent’s blood could open most locks in this city. But things change, don’t they? And over the past four years forces had been moving into Bridgetown, here for its inherent, abundant power. There was no other city on the eastern seaboard with the same natural strength as Bridgetown. A strength that was only now being revealed. A spate of infrastructure spending had led to excavations throughout downtown, and they were digging up various magical buildings from the past. Ones that hinted at a more magical history than even Vincent had known about. All of that had brought the wrong attention. And as he reached the top of the stairs, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and dragged them down with a firm tug, he got ready to face that attention. Once upon a time, he, his family, and their friends had ruled the council in Bridgetown. Now he was on the outer. He walked down the landing. With every step, fire torches lit up to lead him along. The flames didn’t move right. Nothing moved right in the council chambers. Magic knew it was in the presence of greatness. There’d been so

many enchantments cast on this place over the years, they watched your every move. They also absorbed all excess magic, redirecting it to the council. And while Vincent was a councilmember and technically more powerful than the rest, there is safety in numbers, and he no longer had anyone by his side. He reached the stately doors that led into the chambers proper. He paused before them. Securing one hand over the other, he grabbed hold of his golden wedding band. He felt nothing as he did – nothing but a sense of betrayal. But it certainly wasn’t one that had betrayed his love. He’d never desired Amy. She’d always desired his power, and he’d let her have it for a time. It was time to break their misguided connection for good. The doors opened for him. As they creaked dramatically, he walked in. His expensive Spanish leather shoes indented the patterned pile of the thick carpet. Why the council persisted to have carpet in their proper chambers, he didn’t know. For many a body had been broken here, and many a drop of blood had been let. Who knew, maybe his would be let today? As he walked into the council chambers, darkness met him. It surrounded him like the unwanted embrace of an ex-lover. He secured his hands behind him, keeping them loose with just a touch of stiffness. If he needed to call on a spell, he could in a split second. He cleared his throat, the sound rumbling through the room. “I face the council to end my marriage to Amy Lancaster.” At first, there was nothing but silence. Then, one by one, lights appeared in the middle of the room. They looked like nothing more than lamp posts. They were a great deal more, however. They were the magical embodiment of the council. As the lights burnt brightly, shadowy hooded figures appeared underneath them. It gave him the odd sense of feeling as if he were no longer in the council chambers but out on some darkened street.

The first cloak to appear was that of the old dame Contessa. Even though he shouldn’t be able to recognize the hooded of the council, she wore so much jewelry, her rings dripped off her like molten gold. A few caught the light now. Her fingers were stiff as she held her hands in front of her. From that alone, he could tell she was no longer on his side. So they’d got to her too, ha? How easy the great fall. One of Vincent’s fingers twitched, but that was it – the only sign of tension he was going to show from now until his divorce was done. All the rest of the council appeared. And then there was Amy. She’d been in the room since the beginning, but over to the side near the shadows where they were deepest. She wore a svelte black and blue silk dress. It accentuated her every curve, and trust him, there were many. Her tousled black hair slithered over her shoulders. Though that may not be the most sensuous verb, it matched Amy’s reality. As she moved toward him, she had all the poise of a snake. She came to a stop in the middle of the circle. She inclined her head to the side and clicked her tongue. “I am so sorry for this, my love. It’s time to move on.” He arched an eyebrow. “It is me who is petitioning for this divorce.” She crossed her arms and clucked her tongue again. “There’s no point in pretending you’re not disappointed. You’ll miss me forever.” “Our relationship was never anything more than transactional. You agreed to fight for me in the arena. But you will no longer fight for me.” She lifted her head all the way back now and laughed. “Will anyone ever melt your cold heart, Vincent?” she hissed, showing her true colors.

“My heart is neither cold nor capable of melting.” “Of course it isn’t. But I can tell you, it’s capable of being ripped out,” she snarled. “Enough,” the council adjudicator said, her voice hard. “We are here to process the divorce of Vincent Flagstaff and Amy Lancaster. We are also here to announce a new marriage.” Vincent’s lips twitched. “What?” He should’ve monitored his expression, especially with Amy this close. But the news— She laughed. It was teetering and high. If you thought that meant it sounded stupid, you would be wrong. For every single thing Amy did was calculated. He’d never met a fighter like her. But unfortunately for him, her skills were not just aligned to the arena. It was clear she’d been playing him from the very beginning. One of the council walked forward. Vincent’s eyes flashed up to them. He didn’t need them to pull their hoods back to know who they were. It was Theodore. Vincent’s direct competition. He wasn’t an ancestral vampire from Bridgetown. He’d moved in only four years ago. He’d brought with him chaos. Though Vincent didn’t have sufficient evidence, he seemed to be in control of most of the new criminal gangs in town. Theodore was also pushing for more fights in the tournament. Ah, the tournament. It was one of the sickening truths of the magical side of Bridgetown. One the ordinary inhabitants were thankfully kept ignorant of. Vincent professed to have a good working relationship with the police force. He was even close to the mayor and the local branch of the federal government. None of them knew about the seedy underbelly this city had to keep secret. Bridgetown had deeper magical roots than most people could guess. Magical roots that traveled all the way down to Hell. It was an area where space was thin. The Devil knew this. So he’d made a pact with the magical races of Bridgetown

long ago. There were seals preventing Hell from breaking through. But they needed appeasement. And they were given it by fights. In the bad old days, the fights had been real – gladiatorial matches played until death. Before that, Bridgetown had been the location of some of the most ferocious battles in the country. Now the blood-games were controlled. Every single prominent family in town had their players, and they pitted them against one another regularly, more so if the seals seemed to be weakening. And over the past four years, the primary gate had deteriorated rapidly. The seal required more fighting. And who knew, one of these days, those fights might turn deadly. Amy chuckled. She moved close to Vincent and plucked up one of his hands. “I can see the disappointment in your gaze, my dear.” She went to touch his face, but he shot her a look that told her if she did that, she would lose her fingers. “But I’ve found someone who truly loves me.” She turned over to Theodore. The entire time, he’d stood there, the slightest smile plucking his lips, the cold move of a man who knew he was about to win. “Theodore does not love you, Amy,” Vincent said, no volume in his voice. He didn’t need to scream this. Why give it added emphasis? Theodore couldn’t love anyone. And Amy was a fool if she thought affection was part of their equation. For trust him, this was nothing more than maths to that monster. Amy was one of the most powerful players in the game – a sorceress of such repute, she was known throughout the country. This was all just business. Amy leaned in again, and he let her flatten her hand against his chest. She pulled in close like she was a lover. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it swift. The Flagstaffs have been falling for so long now. With one last kick in the guts,” she hissed, “you will go to meet your maker.” She turned, her gaze still flashing as she sauntered over to Theodore. He plucked up her hand and held it tightly. All the while, he stared at Vincent. He didn’t dare do so aggressively. Not yet. But the energy behind his gaze said it

all. “The divorce of Amy and Vincent is done. They will no longer be recognized as a couple, and Amy won’t fight for him in the arena,” the adjudicator stated. Theodore lifted Amy’s hand. She got the most ridiculous smile on her lips. Did she think this was a step up? Vincent cared for every single one of his employees. And yes, he thought of his wife as a member of staff. In order for someone to fight for him in the ring, they needed to be family. And considering Vincent had no other family, the only way to acquire a fighter was to marry them. “Don’t look like that,” Theodore said. “This is love. You should try it sometime.” He lifted Amy’s hand higher. He shoved his fingers into his pocket. He withdrew a ring. It looked as if it had cost the price of a house to buy. Amy let him slip it onto her finger. Then she bit her lip. She did so too hard. She slackened off just before she could draw blood. But the look in her darting black pupils said she wanted to do it anyway. Amy, in retrospect, while she’d been a good fighter, had been too unhinged. She’d always wanted to flaunt Vincent’s wealth and power. She’d been disappointed whenever he’d reeled her in. Vincent crossed his arms and sighed. “I congratulate the happy couple.” He emphasized the word happy. “Thank you. I’ll be amused to see who will fight for you in the next game,” Theodore said, letting a smile crack across his lips. He looked Vincent up and down, up and down like he wanted a way in. He didn’t need one, did he? He just needed to win the game. “The next game will be at the end of the week. How are you going to find someone to fight for you, Vincent? Or are you finally going to fight yourself?” Theodore could pretend to be polite all he wanted, but now that politeness just fell away like stones treacherously falling out from the edge of a cliff.

It’d been Theodore’s goal all along to draw Vincent into the arena. Do that, however, and Vincent would swiftly lose his place on the council. It wasn’t that Vincent couldn’t fight; he had certain limitations. “Do not worry. I will find someone to fight for me by the end of the week,” Vincent stated calmly. “The matters of the arena are not matters of the council,” the adjudicator said. “The marriage of Theodore and Amy is recognized. May they live happily ever after.” As soon as the adjudicator finished, Vincent turned without another word. He strode toward the doors. Yes. May they live happily ever after. But there was no happy in Bridgetown. And there wouldn’t be an ever after. If Vincent couldn’t find a wife by the end of the week, everything his family had ever worked for would crumble, and Bridgetown would follow soon after.

2

Mary

“Hello, Mary Lou Detective Agency,” Mary said as she crammed the phone against her ear, stuck her tongue between her teeth, and took a tricky turn. “Do you mind?” the pickpocket said from the back seat. Mary flopped a hand at the guy. She’d secured him in a pretty strong magical enchantment, but she’d forgotten to put his seatbelt on. He thumped against the window. “You know it’s illegal not to strap a enger in, right?” the guy snarled. “Did you say you’ve lost a cat, ma’am?” Mary asked the woman on the other end of the line. “Nobody’s as good as finding lost felines as Mary Lou.” The guy in the backseat spluttered. “You can’t be serious, right? You’re a detective who stoops to finding lost cats? I can’t believe you caught me.” “Please just leave your details in a message, and I’ll get back to you,” Mary said, ending the call and throwing her phone onto the enger seat. Then she turned around and snarled at the guy. She only drove with one hand, but she left half of her attention for the task. You may not think that would matter, considering her eyes weren’t on the road, but Mary knew how to talk and cast magic at the same time. She’d been taught by the best – her aunt, Millicent Lou. She’d run an orphanage, and pretty much everybody who’d ever come out of it had gone on into law enforcement or protective agencies in some capacity. She was a legend.

And that was why Mary was so darn good at dealing with perps. Lifting both of her hands off the steering wheel now, she ground her fingers into fists. The perp opened his eyes wider and nodded at the road. “Pay attention to where you’re driving,” he snarled. “I’m smart enough to drive a car magically,” she hissed. “And you don’t need a belt, do you? Because you’ve got a bubble spell cast on you. An illegal enchantment. You’ll bounce off anything that strikes you. Now quit—” Mary tuned in to the car just at the right moment and realized they were about to veer toward a tree. Her enchantment wasn’t that strong after all. She snapped around, grabbed the wheel, and swerved. It meant she went into the path of a taxi, and it honked her wildly. She shrugged. Her window was down, and she offered the taxi driver a cute wave. “Oh crap. You’re going to get me killed,” the perp hissed. “You’re fine. You’re fine,” she said firmly. “Are you talking about me or about yourself? Because I can tell you, Mary Lou,” he hiccupped through laughter, “you’re not fine. You’re mad. I can’t believe you took me down.” She opened her hand. That left one on the wheel, which was okay, right? “I’m just gonna stop you there. Because I know exactly what you’re going to do. This is where you’re going to go off on a spiel about how you’re the greatest criminal in the city, right? You’re not. You’re a measly pickpocket. You might have a connection to a gang or two, but you’re not in charge of them. They tolerate you. That’s it. And you’re going down today whether you like it or not.” “Tolerate me? Do you have any idea who I work for?” he snarled. She twisted her finger in the air, indicating he should hurry up. “We don’t have all day. We’re only two blocks away from the police station. When we get there, I won’t have the time to listen to how fantastic you are. So if you want to share your story, you better do it now.”

She said the word share as if he was in kindergarten telling the other kids how wonderful his day had been. He spluttered, his indignation as obvious as a neon sign. “You know I’m d with the Rite Gang, right?” She snorted. “Is there a left gang too? That’s got to be the scariest gang name I’ve ever heard.” She yawned. “Not the right gang – r-i-t-e,” he snarled. “Ever heard of them?” She twitched. She’d heard of them, alright. And they were one of the worst gangs in town. But she soon shrugged. “You’re just a petty pickpocket.” “Yeah, but if I’m so petty, why was I allowed to go on the museum job last month?” “Museum job? More evidence.” She took both hands off the wheel, grabbed the pad of paper beside her, and scribbled on it. This time she was in full control of her driving enchantment, however, and her car kept straight on the road. “Watch the damn road,” the perp spluttered anyway. “What exactly did you do on this museum job? The more information I can give the police, the quicker they can process you. It might even lead to more bounty credits for me,” she said happily. “You’re a goddamn idiot. I’m not sharing anything with you.” “You shouldn’t cuss,” Mary chastised him. “Good god. Where the Hell did they drag you up from?” “St Winston’s Orphanage,” Mary answered. The guy paused. Mary flashed her gaze up to him in the rear vision mirror, and she could see how frightened he looked. “Wait, does that mean that you were trained by—”

“Yep. My aunt, Millicent.” She slapped a hand on her chest. The guy’s nose scrunched. “Wait. You weren’t an orphan?” “No. Millicent was my aunt.” “Wait,” he laughed. “I think I know you. You’re that idiot, aren’t you?” “Idiot?” He chortled, tipping his head back, getting so into it, he splashed spittle all the way over his chin and the window beside him. “You’re the idiot who owns the doofus detective agency.” “I’m sorry, but did you just use the term doofus?” She chuckled, though not as joyously. But she couldn’t derail him. He now snorted with so much laughter, it sounded as if he would cough up a lung. “You’re the idiot who has ads on the TV, aren’t you? No case too small, ha? You find lost cats, broken enchantments, and wandering teddy bears, don’t you?” “You heard about that case?” she asked, proud of herself. “I found a wandering teddy bear. I took him right back to his owner. The little kid was so cute.” “Good God. You’re an idiot. You can’t be related to Millicent, can you?” “Like I told you,” Mary’s enthusiasm ebbed, “she was my aunt.” “Yeah, well, you’re a chip off the old block, aren’t you?” “You’re hardly a god yourself,” she snarled. It usually took a lot to dent her cheer. But the traffic was now thick. She wanted to drop this perp off and get to her next case. That lost cat wouldn’t find itself. The guy laughed again. “Did you inherit any of your aunt’s amazing magic? Any of her skills? I’m assuming that’s a no. That’s why you’re nothing more than a petty private detective,” the guy strained all the way forward against his magical chains, his eyes flashing with glee, “and you’re not in real police enforcement.”

“I like my job,” she said a touch too defensively. “Like Hell. You probably tried out for the police but were kicked out, ha? Oh, poor you.” “Did you forget I was the one who caught you?” Mary snarled. “You didn’t catch me. I fell over in front of you.” “And I was right behind you, and I caught you.” “I wasn’t running from you, idiot. You’ve got no idea what you’re shoving your head into.” “I don’t care. But I will pick up my reward, and you will go where you belong.” “I wouldn’t mess with me if I were you,” he growled. “Okay. I’ll let the police do it instead. As we’re now here.” She shoved her foot on the brake, and the car came to a careening stop right outside of the police station. She rammed up onto the pavement next to a squad car. She barreled out. “You can’t park your car here—” a detective began. Then he rolled his eyes in a long-suffering way. “Detective Hammerstead,” Mary said with a wave. “I’ve got a perpetrator for you.” Detective Hammerstead, who was quite handsome and had one of the most charming smiles in all of the city – not that she ever saw it – locked his knuckles on his hips. “What do you mean you’ve got a perp? Did this guy steal the neighborhood cat or something? Or maybe he didn’t pay his library fines?” Mary had already opened the back door, and she was pulling the perp out by his handcuffs. “Nope. He’s a thief,” she said without a sense of the fact Hammerstead was teasing her. Even the perp laughed. Hammerstead stared from her to the perp, then dropped his act. “Isn’t that Mark

Townsend?” “I’m not really sure,” Mary answered. “But while I was tracking down another case, he fell in front of me, and I recognized him from the wanted posters.” Hammerstead stopped being defensive. He shoved forward. He grabbed a set of real handcuffs – that could trap even a vamp – from his belt. Mary had already done a pretty good job of tying the perp up – or so she thought – but Hammerstead insisted on the cuffs. “He really is Mark Townsend, isn’t he?” Hammerstead changed his tune as he tilted his head and stared at Mark from multiple directions. “I guess,” Mary said with a shrug. Hammerstead sliced his gaze over to her. “You said you caught him on your own?” “Let’s be clear about something,” Mark said. “She didn’t catch me. I tripped in front of her.” “And I caught him. So you can give me my reward now.” She opened her hand right in front of Hammerstead’s nose. He looked at her palm then up to her face. “By the sounds of it, you didn’t actually track him down—” “Pretty sure that doesn’t matter. I recognized him, restrained him, and brought him to you. And that’s all that counts. So I’ll have those bounty hunter credits now.” “You’re not a ed bounty hunter.” “Pretty sure that doesn’t matter,” she repeated. It was a phrase she had to say an awful lot when she came to the police station. She had a little bit of a reputation around here. “Is that Mary?” she heard an officer say from a few meters away.

The younger officer beside him snorted. “Yep. What a legend. She tried to get into the police force 10 times. Every single time she crashed and burned like a crappy car falling off a cliff.” Mark heard. He laughed, looked at Hammerstead as if to get the detective to chuckle with him, then swallowed his mirth. He still looked at her triumphantly. “I knew you were nothing more than an idiot.” Mary sighed. “Yeah. Sure. I’m an idiot, but I still brought you in.” “Head to the front desk. I’ll process him through remand myself. Get your reward.” With that, without so much as a goodbye, Hammerstead walked off. Mary stood there for a little, listening to the conversations around her. Maybe the other officers didn’t think she could hear. Or more likely, they didn’t care. She didn’t have the greatest reputation in this town. She might’ve received training from her aunt, but Mary hadn’t always been the best pupil. And they were right. She’d crashed and burned every single time she’d tried to the police. She kept trying. And that meant something, right? Nope. If her aunt were still alive, she’d tell Mary the only thing that mattered was making a change. You could try, and you could try. You could hope, and you could hope. But unless you went out there and you saved people, everything else was a petty distraction. Mary closed her car door, locked it, and shoved her hands into her pockets. She strode into the lobby. It was a mess. There were people everywhere, some trying to get the attention of the cops at the front station – others being dragged in by officers.

Mary tried to blend into the background, but it was pretty hard considering how infamous she was around here. She heard a few more unkind comments. Sorry. Who was she kidding? A few? Practically every cop told jokes about her. And when other officers weren’t in earshot, they just shared them with the perp they were trying to book. She scrunched her lips together. She scratched behind her ear and made it to the front desk. “Detective Hammerstead—” Barney Fenton sat behind the front desk. He hadn’t been an on-duty officer for about 20 years. An injury had left him doing paperwork. He was now an asteroid of a man. Not only did he have a big body, but he had the gravity field to match. He was exactly the guy you wanted on the front desk, because everybody listened to him. He had this big, barrel-chested Barry-White voice. It could shake through the room, silencing the lobby with nothing more than one wellplaced shout. He could also reach over the desk with his massive hands and grab a perp long before they slipped custody. He was like facing off against a mountain. And this mountain didn’t like her much. He rolled his eyes. “That’s you, is it, Mary?” “Sure is. I’m here for my bounty hunter credits.” “Yeah, but we don’t just hand them out for breathing. You can get lost and stop wasting my time.” “Detective Hammerstead should’ve called ahead. I brought in a man from the wanted list. The guy is Mark Townsend.” Barney didn’t laugh and shrug her off. He checked the system. “Hammerstead hasn’t written anything up. I don’t much appreciate you wasting everyone’s time. We’re real police here, and we’ve got a real important job to do.” Her lips twitched. “I appreciate that. However, I brought in a wanted man, and I need my bounty hunter credits,” she said politely.

If there was one lesson that had rubbed off on her from her aunt, it was that. You always maintained your civility. You could be screamed at by an assailant. Someone could kick you down. You just smoothed a smile over your face, got right back up, and kept being as polite as you gosh darn could. And the reason you did was that it was one of the most disarming skills there was. Sure enough, as Mary stood there, her hand still reached out, that smile still on her face, Barney just rolled his eyes. “Look. If you wait around, I’ll call him myself. Just get out of the line. Go sit on one of those plastic chairs.” “Thank you,” she said courteously. She turned, walked over to the plastic chairs, but didn’t sit, considering they were full. There was everything from body witches to gang . Mary looked over at Barney and soon realized this could take some time. He wouldn’t get to her until he cleared everybody else. And as the doors kept opening, more cases walking through, Mary appreciated she could spend the best part of her day here. Oh well. Good time to drum up business. Shoving a hand into her pocket, she activated a simple spell and grabbed out her business cards. Then she politely went down the line of plastic chairs, handing them out. She always had the same spiel. “Mary Lou, the only private eye in town who can go after any case, no matter how big or small.” It was a good spiel, right? Yeah, well most of her cases ended up being tiny. She might proudly proclaim that no case could be too big, but the big ones were just sucked up by the real private eyes in town. The guys who went after the actual kidnappings, the real assaults, and the bounties. They were relied on by the police more often than not. They were ex-army warlocks, sorceresses too. Then there was Mary. She was a level I witch. Yep. You heard that right. She was about the same as most teenagers who first came into their powers. Mary had never progressed. Irrelevant. Her aunt had always taught her it was meaningless how much power you had – it was how you used it. When Mary was done handing out her cards – and done listening to the chortles

of laughter it induced – she stood by the wall, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers on them until she realized that might look impatient, and she had a reputation to upkeep. She swung her hands by her sides instead. She looked over at the desk. She tried to get Barney’s attention. He was kneedeep in booking some gang. It had at least 10 , and all of them looked as if they wanted to bring the roof down. When one guy charged with magic and the officer attending to him looked as if he might fail to contain the attack, Barney reached over, locked one huge hand on the guy’s collar, and shut him down as fast as someone slamming a door. Hell, every single person in the foyer went quiet. They all appreciated how stupid it was for anyone to take Barney on. It was when Mary had been waiting for a full hour that the doors opened and everybody went quiet for the second time. You’d think, based on just how silent they became, that God had just rocked up and walked in. This was no god. Though technically, to some vampires in the city, he was godly. Who was she talking about? Why, none other than Vincent Flagstaff. His family was the oldest in Bridgetown. They were the first vampires to establish it. And if you believed their family history, they’d had some presence on this hallowed land for even longer than that. They were the closest thing to royalty in this city you could get. And most people treated them exactly like that. It didn’t help that Vincent was insanely good looking. Seriously. He appeared as if he’d walked right out of the pages of a magazine. He was tall, but not too tall, broad, but not too broad. Everything was well proportioned. His jaw was angular, and his gaze always flashed. Hell, it had this luminescence behind it that suggested you could cover it with any cloud, but it would always blaze right through. He had sandy-blond hair cropped to his ears. It should’ve looked messy, but it always sat like a spirit level. He was wearing a navy-blue suit that matched his eyes. As soon as he strode in, the body witch behind Mary bit her lip and moaned.

Everyone went quiet. Barney rose. Vincent walked over to him. “Do you have the file?” He might’ve dropped his voice, but everyone was paying attention to him. Hell, even the shifters who’d been rowdy a second before became quiet. One guy looked as if he wanted to take a selfie with Vincent. This was all very good, but Mary had been waiting here for an hour. She sensed a break in the traffic. Everybody else might treat the Flagstaffs like royalty, but they were just another vampire family. Or so Mary told herself. She raced forward. She didn’t get too close to Vincent, though. She’d never been a fan of vampires. They could smell power, see. Other people might have to wait around to hear Mary’s history before they could find out what level of witch she was. Vampires? All they had to do was sniff her once. Vincent was too distracted to notice her. Barney turned around, his gaze flashing a stark warning at her. “Just wait here a moment, sir. I’ll get the file myself.” Mary leaned forward, locked an elbow on the bench, and tried to get his attention. “While you’re there, can you call Hammerstead, please? I’ve been waiting for an hour.” Everyone in the room was still just as quiet. So they all heard Mary’s complaint. They shot her the kind of look that said how dare she for interrupting Vincent. As for Vincent? He noticed her. His gaze slipped across her once, and his nostrils flared. He soon snorted quietly in derision. She bit her lip. She didn’t turn to face him. Barney soon came back.

He handed Vincent over the file. Mary noted what was written over the front. The Rite Gang. She frowned. “Thank you,” Vincent said. “Let me know if you find anything else. This information is of the utmost importance.” “I dragged in a perp only an hour ago who claimed he had a connection with the Rite Gang,” Mary said. It was clear she wasn’t meant to speak to Vincent. What she’d done already was bad enough. Now the silence in the room took on a particular edge. It was almost as if the shifters beside her were ready to jump up and beat her for daring to bother Bridgetown’s heir apparent. Vincent had already half turned away. Now he paused and pushed back. “Ignore her,” Barney blurted. “She dragged in a petty thief.” “Sure. A petty thief. But he claimed to have a connection to the Rite Gang.” Vincent looked her up and down. “Are you a police officer?” The whole room snorted in amusement. Mary ignored them. She flattened a hand on her chest. “I’m a private eye. No case too big or too small.” She proudly waggled a finger. Vincent frowned. “You are a,” he paused, his nostrils widening a nanometer, “level I witch. How could you take on a large case?” Mary pressed her lips together and swallowed. Though most people appreciated she wasn’t powerful, very few others knew just how much power she lacked. Laughs erupted everywhere. She looked at the floor uncomfortably, then let her gaze bounce back up to

Vincent as if it was a ball somebody had hit with a racket. “Yeah, I guess I am. But my perp still claimed to have a connection to the Rite Gang.” “You will not waste my time in the future,” Vincent said, arrogance dripping off him as he went to turn away. Mary sucked at her teeth. There were a thousand things she wanted to say. She opened her mouth to say Vincent was horrible, in fact, but that would be when Barney reached over and touched her shoulder as if she was one of the worst uncontrolled criminals here. The exact way he pressed his hand down made Mary feel like she’d just been set upon by a mountain. “Hold your tongue, Mary. Vincent is in a hurry. You’ve got nothing worth saying to him.” Mary opened her mouth anyway. But that would be when the door behind Barney creaked. Out walked Hammerstead. With him was Townsend. Mary stared triumphantly. Vincent turned around. “Vincent.” Hammerstead nodded low. “I’ve got something you might be interested in.” She smiled and locked her arms around her middle. Here we go. She would soon be vindicated. And every single person in this foyer who had laughed would learn she’d been the one to bring in that perp. She kept her back to the guy as she watched Vincent, waiting for the moment when he realized she wasn’t an idiot after all. The moment wouldn’t come. Mary wasn’t paying attention. To be fair, even if she’d been paying attention, she would’ve lacked the magical awareness to know what Mark Townsend was doing. Hammerstead had taken a step away from him.

One shifter beside Mary opened his eyes wide. The guy recognized Mark. They both shared a moment. The shifter slipped a hand into his pocket. “I told you that this guy was important,” Mary said. Nobody paid a scrap of attention to her. She could’ve jumped up on the bench, pulled off her clothes, and done a dance, and no one would’ve even looked her way. So she cleared her voice even louder. “I—” The shifter moved in fast from Mary’s side. She attended to it now, her brain catching up, but there was nothing she could do. The guy moved too fast, and that enchantment he had in his hand was way too powerful. Mary was swung around like a ribbon on a string. Her hair fanned out, her jacket flaring around her waist. She was locked against the shifter’s beefy chest as something was pressed right up into her throat. She knew what the enchantment was before it started burning her skin. It was a knife spell. It was far, far sharper and more effective than any blade you could go buy down at the local weapons store. You sure as heck wouldn’t be cutting carrots with this thing. You’d cut right through walls and necks instead. Silence descended like the sun on a cold dark night. “Don’t move a muscle. No one move a damn muscle,” the shifter roared at the top of his lungs. He had to be smarter than his friends, because he backed off away from Barney’s reach. He pushed the knife spell even harder against Mary’s throat. Maybe this is where she should scream. She wasn’t an idiot. Do that – voluntarily push her throat even a micron closer to the knife – and it would slice through her flesh. It might not slit her throat, but it would go a long way to injuring her badly.

“Hey,” Hammerstead growled. Vincent said nothing. He watched the shifter, his expression guarded. If the shifter had been paying attention, he would’ve realized that Vincent was charging with a little magic. The shifter shoved the knife spell harder against Mary’s throat. He drew blood. A long line of it trailed down her neck. Vincent didn’t glance toward it once. “What’s your plan?” he whispered. “To get the Hell out of here,” the shifter snarled. Mary sensed as he twisted his head. This might just be a guess, but it felt as if he was making meaningful eye with Mark. They had to know each other. This had to be an attempt to break Mark out of here. She strained a little, turning toward Mark. It cost her throat, and more lines of blood sliced down her neck. “Don’t move,” the shifter snarled. Hammerstead had his hands up. He looked apoplectic. He jerked back. “Don’t do anything stupid.” The knife spell was shoved harder into Mary’s throat. It wasn’t just skin that it cut now. It sliced into her muscles. How much longer until it reached her jugular? He wouldn’t do that, though. If he cut her throat, he’d lose his only advantage. Mary had caught his scent – she knew he was a shifter wolf. He would know how to threaten her without ending her life. His senses would be locked on her blood with mechanical accuracy. Vincent looked calm and collected. One of his hands was in his pocket now, as nonchalant as if he were waiting for the bus, his gaze just as bored. Hammerstead continued to back off. Barney did, too, though his gaze was about as calm as an exploding volcano. He would take this personally. What happened in his lobby was a matter of pride for him.

No one would have threatened him like this for years. “What’s your plan?” Barney snarled. “To get the Hell out of here and to end this bitch when I’m done,” the guy hissed. “If you’re planning to kill me, then there’s no point in threatening my life now,” Mary said calmly. Don’t get her wrong – she’d prefer not to be pinned up against this guy’s chest with a knife spell digging into her throat. But she didn’t show the trembling fear everyone expected her to. “Shut the Hell up,” the shifter snarled. “If you wanted a silent victim, you picked the wrong person,” Mary said. The guy pushed the knife harder into Mary’s throat. Vincent hadn’t been paying much attention to her. Not obviously. Now he sliced his gaze up to Mary’s neck. This wasn’t his vampire senses going wild, right? He wouldn’t care about her blood. Vampires had much better blood these days. They didn’t need to steal it from victims. It was manufactured for them in the same labs that printed fake meat. And it was a complete nutritional supplement. Usually they had to dice with people’s varying health conditions when they drank their blood. Manufactured blood was always perfect and gave them what their finely tuned bodies required. Maybe Vincent was noting what Mary realized too as the knife was pushed further in. Just a fraction further in, and the shifter would cut her jugular. “Everybody is going to leave this room right now,” the shifter screamed. “Dammit,” Hammerstead snarled. He backed off. Barney staggered several meters away. The other officers beside Mary moved back. Meanwhile, Mark was right there. The shifter only held Mary with one hand. His other strayed toward his pocket.

He’d hidden a spell in there, hadn’t he? Whatever it was, it would be powerful. The guy would’ve been checked before he’d entered the police station. For him to have a knife enchantment meant he could hide other things on his personage too. So what was in his pocket? She looked back at Mark’s eyes. There was hope there. So the shifter had some kind of transport spell, ha? Something that would immediately and safely get Mark and the shifter out of here before anyone could say boo. If Mark left the police station now, she wouldn’t get her bounty hunter credits. Hammerstead backed off further. Now even Vincent moved away. He, unlike everyone else, didn’t have his hands raised. Maybe he didn’t care if Mary’s throat was cut. “I said everybody get out of here,” the shifter now screamed at the top of his lungs. He clutched something in his pocket. Mary was certain it was a transport spell. She couldn’t practice strong detection magic. If she were a sorceress, she could pinpoint what kind of spell it was. When one strong practitioner touched another, they could use their body like a scanner. All Mary had was her instincts. Mark got a little closer. The transport spell would be able to encom both of them without them having to touch. The shifter’s fingers locked around it harder. “I said everybody back off.” “Everybody, come back,” Mary commanded, letting her throat push up against the knife once more. “He’s got a transport spell. He will take Mark out of here. Don’t let them go.” “You—” the shifter began.

Mary sensed her opportunity. Did she use magic? Nope. The shifter was more powerful than her. Did she have some hidden enchantment on her? Again, nope. For it would have to be a heck of a strong enchantment to force past the shifter’s control. But she had a mouth – as everyone who’d ever met her knew all too well – and she intended to use it. Yanking her neck to the side, she twisted just out of the way of the knife. Then she bit the guy on the hand. She chomped down with all her might. It wasn’t a blow that could render him unconscious or anything. She wasn’t about to nip off one of his fingers. But it was all the distraction the police needed. She expected Hammerstead to leap over the counter and come to her aid. He didn’t. No one else moved. Except for Vincent. Blindingly quickly, he was by her side. Then he was all around her. She might not be strong, but darn did she have quick senses. Her mind could track things faster than other people’s. And it always tabulated every single detail for later consumption. She picked up Vincent’s unique sense now. The way his muscles sounded as they snapped and contracted. The exact feeling of his skin as he pressed a hand on her throat, protecting it from the knife as he allowed his knuckles to be cut instead. His size, his heat, his magic, his presence – all of it. He twisted her around, and as she spun, she felt the power raging up within him. The shifter spluttered, but it was the only sound he had a chance to make. Vincent locked a hand on his chest and sent power arcing into him. The shifter was flung back. He smashed into the wall, gouging a hole through the plaster. As he slumped down, it rained over the top of his head like snow. Mark rocketed forward, and Barney reacted. He got in Mark’s way, and Hammerstead tackled him against the bench. “That’s it,” Mary said proudly.

She shouldn’t have screamed that with so much joy. Her throat might not have been slit, but it had been pretty darn close. Vincent’s grip tightened around it. She felt a few slices of magic tingling into her skin. “Do not move, and for God’s sake, do not speak,” Vincent snarled. He used the same long-suffering tone most people used on her, even though they’d just met. “Check the shifter’s pocket. He has a transport spell,” Mary said anyway. “I told you not to speak. And certainly not to say such obvious things,” Vincent chided her. Now Hammerstead had locked Mark down, he leaped right over the counter. He got to the shifter, checked his pocket, and pulled out a transport enchantment. Mary laughed and went to tell everyone she’d told them so, but Vincent just growled in her ear. “If I have to gag you, I will. You will stop speaking.” “But—” His other hand twitched up, ready to lock over her mouth. Hammerstead spun. “The reason I brought that guy here,” he gestured at Mark who was now well and truly under Barney’s control, “was I think he had something to do with your case.” “That was—” Mary went to say she’d already said that, but Vincent locked a hand over her mouth. She tried to talk around it. Hammerstead didn’t jump to her aid. “Do you have any idea how injured your throat is? Every single time you try to speak, you injure it further.” Yeah, she was injured. But she’d be fine. She wanted her credits. And beyond that, she wanted this case to be solved.

Okay, so Mary had bombed out of the police force 10 times. She still tried to help wherever and whenever she could. And though all these officers here thought she was only in the private eye business for money, every time she brought in a perp, she was going through with her aunt’s wishes. Making meaningful changes, no matter how small, was all her aunt had ever wanted. It didn’t matter how tiny or large. Mary just had to make one change a day. “That looks pretty bad. You must be in pain, Mary,” Hammerstead said. Mary tried to speak again. “You would think it would be painful, wouldn’t you?” Vincent said. Once more he used a tone that suggested he’d been putting up with her stupidity for most of his life. She tried to speak again. She felt the skin around her throat straining. If it weren’t for Vincent’s hold, it would open all the way up. “The medic’s coming,” Barney said from behind her. “For god’s sake, Mary. Just shut up and do what Vincent says. You almost had your throat slit.” Mary snorted. As if. Yeah, yeah, a knife had been thrust up against her throat, but that shifter had never intended to kill her. Snorting was the last move Vincent would allow her to make. He tapped her on the top of her skull. Mary’s eyes rolled back. Vincent followed her down to the floor as he knocked her out. He kept one magical hand locked around her throat until she looked up into his eyes sleepily. The last thing she saw was his ire staring back. His ire, and maybe just a single tiny moment of comion.

She was no fool. It would never grow. You had to be family to love Mary. And ever since her aunt had died, she’d had none of that.

3

Vincent

As soon as she was unconscious, he rose, but he didn’t remove his hand from her throat. Her injury was serious. If the knife had been pushed in just a little further, her throat would’ve been slit, and there would’ve been no going back for this Mary, whoever she was. Hammerstead got down on one knee beside Vincent. He shook his head. “Idiot.” “I must profess,” Vincent smoothed one bloodsoaked hand down his top as he pulled his wallet out, rifled in it, and grabbed an enchantment, “I have never met somebody who seems to care so little about their own life.” “Oh, she cares about her own life. Just has no clue how brutal the world is.” Hammerstead shook his head. He might not have shown an ounce of comion for Mary when she’d been injured, but now it openly played over his face. “Her aunt would have had a heart attack if she’d seen that.” “Her aunt?” “None other than Millicent Lou.” Vincent had just deposited the enchantment on Mary’s throat. As it wrapped its magic around her significant injury, it would hold it in place until the medics got here. That meant there was nothing to stop Vincent from showing his surprise. It rumpled his brow and tugged his lips down. And for a man as controlled as he was, that was like slapping himself and screaming. “The Millicent Lou?” “Yep.” Hammerstead crossed his arms. “Of the famous St Winston’s Orphanage. Most of the best people we have in law enforcement were trained by her.”

“And this Mary is a blood relation?” Vincent emphasized blood. He stared down at Mary again. She had a certain peaceful quality about her. Her messy hair – which seemed to be perpetually unbrushed – sat around her like a cloud. Her clothes were old but neat. They were torn here and there, but there were signs they were continually repaired. She was covered in bruises. There were a few gashes over her arms, too. All old injuries. “Before you look too impressed, Mary is not a chip off the old block as the saying goes. She tried to get into the police department 10 times but failed abysmally every single time.” Vincent smelt Mary for the third time. It was pointless; the conclusion was the same. “She’s only a level I witch.” “Yep. Though I didn’t know she was only a level I. I thought she was at least level II. Damn. I’ll give her one thing. Never met anyone as tenacious.” Hammerstead rose just as a medic rushed in. He waved them over. Vincent got stuck staring down at Mary again, then shook it off. This incident was done. It had given him something he needed, however. Pulling out his lapels, he tugged them down neatly then walked over to Mark Townsend. He was now in a security enforcement field behind the police bench. Barney stood beside him. If the force field failed, he would do something about it. Hell, if every single shifter gang in town broke into the police station to save this Mark Townsend, Barney would still take them all on, one by one. As Vincent approached, Barney leaned over and opened the bench. Vincent strode through. He stopped in front of Mark Townsend, his hands in his pockets. He flicked his gaze up and down, up and down. Mark shook his head. “I’m not an idiot. I won’t answer a thing. I do that, and the

Rite Gang’s gonna go after me. My lips are sealed,” he snarled. The shifters had already been removed from the room, including the one Vincent had knocked out. That guy would take a week to wake. Vincent remained there, his hands still tucked into his pockets, a glimmer of his stiff knuckles visible. “You’re between a rock and a hard place. Let me ask you, what is the one thing you fear the most in life?” His voice traveled down low in a growl. The guy’s lips ticked up. Then he shook his head hard once. When Barney had got to him earlier, he’d punched him. A long line of blood now slid down Townsend’s brow. Vincent didn’t even look at it once. “You can threaten me all you want, but everybody knows your bark is now worse than your bite. You’re a failed prince, aren’t you, Vincent?” He looked as if he was trying to take pleasure in saying that, but fear still made his pupils expand. Vincent revealed nothing. He remained there, his hands never leaving his pockets, his stance always one of total ease. “I’m going to ask you one last time. What is it in life that you fear the most?” “It’s not you. Your reach is diminishing every day.” “So it’s the Rite Gang, then? Let me offer some advice to you. You have now been found out. Word will have spread that you were arrested. Word will spread about this incident, too. If you have some kind of affiliation with the Rite Gang, they will right now be planning to kill you. Their reach is significant. You will need protection to live.” The guy hissed. He shook his head harder, now baring his teeth. “You’ve got nothing on me. I’m not gonna say a thing,” Townsend now screamed. He did so as loudly as he could. It was clear he was trying to speak directly to the Rite Gang out there. For all Vincent knew, they might have people working on the police force, but it was unlikely. Townsend gave in to his fear.

Vincent could smell it, smell the hormones, smell his veins opening up, his heart pumping harder. Fear has this tangy taste. Most humans can’t hide it. Top sorceresses and warlocks might be able to, but your average Joe, no matter how magical, has no chance of keeping their true emotions held back from a vampire. Townsend now vibrated with fright. “Nothing makes me scared,” Townsend lied. “Not like that stupid bitch who brought me in.” “If by that you mean Mary, then I can confirm she showed no fear back there. But you,” Vincent leaned forward, now smelling Townsend obviously, “are dripping with fear. There is precious little you can do to stop a vampire from smelling your true emotional state. So stop fighting. You fear the Rite Gang. And they will come for you. Your only option is to make a deal with us.” Townsend shook his head, his neck muscles whipping around like flags. “No way, no how. I know what you’re gonna do to me. You’re going to make me testify,” he said, his lips white and wobbling. But there’s no way you’ll be able to keep me safe.” Vincent inclined his head to the side. “Testify? You have something to testify about, then?” Townsend hissed. He shook his head harder. If he kept going like that, he would wrench it right off his neck. Speaking of necks. As Vincent did this, with half of his attention, he monitored Mary, though it was pointless. The medic kneeled there, and the guy dealt competently with Mary’s injury. But… but indeed. Vincent had far more important things to do. Leaning even closer, he shoved his hands harder into his pockets. He sniffed once more. “Your fear is only escalating. Tell me, what will it do when it reaches its capacity? The human body is not made to feel emotions too deeply. When they become too great, the heart just gives out.” He patted his chest twice then let his hand fall dramatically to his side. “Shut up. You know nothing.” “No, but I’m learning things about the Rite Gang. You know they have an

empath who works with them, don’t you?” Townsend twitched. He got a look in his eyes that said he hadn’t known that. Which told Vincent that while he had a loose association with the Rite Gang, he wasn’t within the inner fold. “Empaths are a type of psychic. They cannot read your thoughts, but they can give you emotions – crippling ones,” Vincent now snarled with all his force. He drew up his hand and tapped his head twice. “They can slide into your psyche and force you to feel things, force you to feel the worst emotions you can imagine. And with that, they can torture you more effectively than by pulling out your toenails or breaking your bones. If you slip the police’s custody, that is the fate that awaits you. You’re tainted goods now, Mr. Townsend. And the Rite Gang will do what they can to break you.” Townsend’s eyes now misted up. He didn’t burst into tears. He just redirected all his energy to shaking his head repeatedly. He looked ready to make that move until his neck snapped. It wouldn’t save him. Nothing much would now. “I suggest you listen to him,” Hammerstead said from behind Vincent. He’d been hanging around Mary. Vincent was now fully aware she was past the critical stage. Her skin was being renewed. And an enchantment would be placed on her throat to assist in the process. Soon enough, she’d be on her feet again. Vincent relaxed on the inside, though he wouldn’t let himself appreciate that. It allowed him to get closer to Townsend. “Your only option is to help us. You must tell us everything you know.” “I wouldn’t dare go against them. You know what they do to traitors, don’t you?” “It’s the same thing they do to tainted goods. I have already explained the process to you. An empath will—” Townsend squeezed his eyes shut and jerked his head as if Vincent had slapped him. He clenched his teeth and forced a slow, shallow breath through them. He looked up into Vincent’s eyes. “I can’t… can’t testify.” “What do you know?” Hammerstead crossed his arms.

“Nothing. I was just sent on a job. Okay? A petty crime – that was it.” “What kind of petty crime?” Hammerstead demanded. “I didn’t help them with any real jobs, okay? I just did little stuff for them. Stole wallets here and there. That’s it.” He was lying. He was holding something back, but Vincent couldn’t guess what it was. His eyes tracked back and forth, back and forth. Townsend was terrified. But he was far more afraid of what the Rite Gang would do to him than anything Vincent could say. “He’s lying,” someone said from the opposite side of the room. Vincent said someone, but a fraction of his attention was still locked on Mary, so he knew full well who it was. She was propped up against the wall. The medic dealing with her had his back to her, and he startled from surprise when she started speaking. She went to push to her feet, but the guy grabbed her shoulder and shook his head. She just shrugged past him. “He’s lying. He did some job at the museum. He blurted it out in the car.” She went to grab something in her pocket, but whatever it was, it wasn’t there. She scratched her ear. “He was definitely being truthful when he let it slip. I haven’t heard about anything going down at the museum – not for two weeks. It must’ve been the job where that painting was stolen.” Vincent narrowed his eyes at Mary. She must still be in incredible pain. She certainly shouldn’t be speaking. She shoved her shoulders into the wall and pushed off it. The medic tried to pull her back, but she shrugged. “I’m fine. But that guy is lying to you. He’s terrified about the museum job, too.”

“Shut the Hell up,” Townsend screamed. “Why don’t you just tell him the truth? Sounds like you’re in with the Rite Gang, after all.” “If you open your mouth again, the Rite Gang will turn you to ash,” Townsend hissed. Mary shrugged. … Did she ever feel a sense of danger? When Vincent had first clapped eyes on her, she had come across as nothing more than an irritating half-witch. Now, she was still just a half-witch, but— Townsend struggled against his restraints. “Shut your mouth,” he hissed. “If you know what’s good for you—” She flopped a hand at him. “Ask around. I’ve never known what’s good for me.” She chuckled. Vincent’s gaze sliced up to the enchantment around her throat. He felt the moment a single droplet of blood slipped beyond it. The medic attending to her noticed, too, and tried to pull her away. “Jesus, Mary, get out of here. Stop drawing attention to yourself. You almost got your throat cut,” Hammerstead said. He had the long-suffering voice of someone who had been trying to protect another but had been failing all their life. “I’m fine. It’s a scratch.” Mary flopped a hand at him. “But why do you think he’s so scared? Did he let something slip in the car?” She bit her lip and thought. She tapped the side of her cheek. Her arm was weak, but she went through with the move anyway. As a vampire, Vincent could track the flow of blood through her body. She should be close to falling, so why did she confidently take another step toward them?

“He didn’t say much to me in the car. He just laughed about the fact I was a private eye.” “I am warning you,” Townsend now snarled. His eyes became wide with anger. “If you say another word, I’m gonna get the Rite Gang to string you up alive.” “I don’t think you have them on speed dial,” Mary chuckled. There wasn’t fear in her gaze. It wasn’t in her body, either. If you were a great actor, you might look unaffected. But someone without raw power could never hide it from a vampire. Which meant Mary was hiding nothing. She was unaffected by this. She’d been assaulted, but now she was rebounding like a ball in a game of frantic squash. She crossed her arms, her eyes widening. “It has to be something to do with where I found you, ha? We were in the park. Toward the eastern gate. I saw you running out of a set of trees. You didn’t come from them, did you?” She rolled her tongue through her teeth. “I think I detected magic before I saw you. Mustn’t have been a standard transport spell. What? Have you got a permanent portal hidden there?” “Shut up,” he screamed. “Hammerstead, if you go there right now and you check the area, you might find the portal. You might even find where he came from.” “You’ve done enough, Mary. We could have figured all of this out on our own,” Hammerstead sighed. “By the time I’m finished with you,” Townsend began, getting angrier and more fearful with every single word, “you’re going to be nothing more than blood and bones. The Rite Gang is going to—” “Enough,” Vincent said with rumbling finality. He stood right in front of Townsend. Townsend had feared the wrong thing throughout this entire conversation. He’d been looking at Vincent like he was just a wall hanging. Now

Vincent showed his true vampire power. It was like the equivalent of pulling a cloak off. As it fell from his shoulders, everyone became quiet. All of those who could truly sense power would detect raw force bubbling up from Vincent, racing through his veins and rising high through his blood like invisible steam. Even Townsend, who seemed so fixated on Mary that nothing could distract him, stopped and stammered. He shook his head once. “No way. I’ve got friends in high places. I’m warning you,” he screamed. “They must be high friends, indeed. You had your fun. You will be questioned, and you will testify, or you will go to jail where the Rite Gang will likely find you and kill you. The option is yours.” Townsend strained forward. He must’ve had enough natural magic onboard to attack his force field. Vincent did the rest. He lanced in close and punched Townsend. Just as he was knocked out, he swiveled his gaze not toward Vincent but toward Mary. Vincent could see the anger growing there. Townsend wasn’t making this up. He would do anything in his power to exact revenge on Mary. If Mary had remained quiet throughout the interaction, that wouldn’t have occurred. Vincent pivoted, his expression revealing all his anger. “You. Come here,” he growled at Mary. She tilted her head to the side and looked confused. She pointed at herself. “Me? Is this where I get my bounty hunter credits?” “Your… bounty hunter credits?” “Damn, Mary, that can wait. You are aware of the fact you were almost killed today, right?” Hammerstead said. “I want my credits,” Mary said. “I have a cat to find.”

Vincent wanted to let his anger out on her, but his lips twitched. “What do you mean you have a cat to find?” “Mary Lou Detective Agency – no case too big or small,” she said as she brought up a finger and waggled it. “I seem to only get small cases, though. And right now I’ve got a neighborhood cat to find. So can we wrap this up?” She twisted her fingers around one another, indicating that Vincent should hurry up. Vincent, the most powerful vamp in Bridgetown. Vincent, technically the strongest councilmember, too. And Vincent, the man who’d saved her life. He spread his lips over his teeth in a threatening move that would’ve made anybody else freeze. It was the equivalent of cocking a gun. Mary just frowned at him. “Can I help you?” “Yes. You can help me by having nothing to do with this case ever again. I do not know why you are possessed of no fear. And I have no clue why you can push past pain that would cripple other people,” he said as his gaze flicked toward her throat. He couldn’t stare at it too long. Do that, and it would derail his anger. “But you are grossly out of your depth.” He didn’t hold back. The lobby had filled again. There were officers and medics everywhere. All of them stopped to listen to him. “You are nothing but a level I witch, Mary. Now tuck your tail between your legs, run away, and don’t come back.” He expected her to crumple – expected her cheeks to redden, expected tears to mist her eyes. None of that happened. She glanced at her feet once then up at him. “Mary Lou Detective Agency,” she said pointedly as she turned on her foot. “No case too big or small.”

4

Mary

What a day it had been. She walked down the street, considering her car had been impounded for illegal parking, and she trailed a finger over the enchantment covering her throat. It was afternoon already. The incident at the police station was way behind her. Though not all the way behind her considering her treacherous mind kept going over and over Vincent. It was the first time she’d seen him in the flesh. She knew all about him, though. You would have to be a hermit not to have learned all about the Flagstaffs in Bridgetown. They practically owned the t. At least they had, back in the day. What with one thing and another, Vincent had lost almost all of his family. He had distant cousins, but they weren’t in this town anymore. It was kind of sad. She snorted at herself. “Yeah, sure, sad. It would be if he weren’t such an arrogant prick. She pretended to punch the air then let her hand drop. She tapped her enchantment again. As her fingers slid over her throat, she could feel it just under the surface. It was discreet. No one ing her down the street would know what’d happened. Then again, news traveled fast in this town. She saw two officers on the other side of the road, and as she ed, they turned to one another and started talking animatedly. Mary sighed. She shoved her hands back into her pockets. She scrunched her lips together. Great. Just another story she would have to live down. She didn’t get it, though. Hadn’t she done well during that interaction? She’d saved the day. She hadn’t caved, had kept herself professional, and had helped out. But you tell that to that arrogant nincompoop, Vincent.

She cursed his name as she crossed the street. She’d already found the missing cat. It hadn’t been hard. It had been in its owner’s backyard. Mary hadn’t even had to cast level I magic. A simple tracking spell could find little. It could only discover something in a 20-meter radius. At least this time it had worked. Mary trailed her fingers over her wallet. She’d earned 20 bucks. The fee had been 40, but she’d felt sorry for the old dame. With one look at the woman’s property and the broken-down fence, Mary had halved the fee. Which wasn’t a great business plan. Mary was already living hand-to-mouth. As she strode down the street, she paused and looked at a newsagent. There on the front page was none other than that arrogant git Vincent. Next to him was his wife. What was her name again? Ah yeah, Amy. She was from out of town. She was a vampire too. And she was stunning. There she was, dripping in gold jewelry, arm in arm with Vincent at some function. It’d been a week ago. She had to it they looked good together. Power wanted power, right? There was a reason rich attractive bachelors always went for rich attractive bachelorettes. … And Mary was thinking this why? She scratched her neck and turned. Her phone rang. Awesome. Hopefully it would be an important case. She pulled it out of her pocket. “You’ve reached Mary Lou’s Detective—” She didn’t get halfway through the spiel. “I need your help,” a desperate woman said from the other end of the line. She straightened. “If this is something urgent, please call the police. I can help

you with small crimes, but—” she began. Maybe she shouldn’t be shooting herself in the foot. All the other private eyes in town didn’t hand on their big cases to the cops, but this woman sounded pressured. “No, I need you,” she said. “My daughter is missing, and only you can find her.” Mary’s eyes rounded. “Please call the police—” “I have called the police. They haven’t been able to help me.” “I see.” Though maybe it didn’t look like it to other people, Mary knew her limitations. “There are other private eyes in town who are better at dealing with missing people. I can recommend Howard—” “It’s you. I need you. Please come and meet me at 18 Baskerville Street.” With that, the woman hung up. “Hello? Hello?” Mary shoved her phone away. She redialed, but nobody answered. She teetered on the spot. Baskerville Street wasn’t too far away. She’d find the woman, tell her to call Howard, and hope that another case would come her way. As Mary strode down the street, it was to the sight of a super fancy car pulling up next to her. She sliced her gaze over. The roof was down, so she saw who was inside, all right. It took her no time at all to recognize it was Amy – Vincent’s wife. She was dressed in a black leather jacket, though she still wore just as much gold as she had in that picture on the front of the newspaper. A massive ring glinted on her finger. Maybe it was a new wedding ring or something? Mary imagined that for people as rich as that, they could buy a new ring for every single day of the week. Amy spun her gaze over to Mary.

It wasn’t Mary she was looking at. She looked straight past Mary to the newsagent. She saw the blown-up photo of her and Vincent, and a slice of a smile slid across her face. Mary said slice, because that’s the way the smile moved – honest to God. It didn’t twitch. It gathered as if she was cutting into her own lips with razor blades. Her phone rang, and her thumb slid down her steering wheel to answer it on Bluetooth. “Are you ready for the tournament on Friday?” a hard male voice vibrated over the line. Amy tightened her grip around the steering wheel. “More ready than ever. That bastard will not know what hit him.” Mary tipped her head to the side. Tournament? Bastard? Wasn’t Amy meant to be some all-around good girl? “Come to train at the twentieth platform of the subway. There’ll be no mistakes this time. By next week, the seal will be broken. The city will be ours.” With that, the lights turned green, and Amy drove off. Mary turned right around and stared at Amy. What the heck had that been? The seal? The city? Was this the plot for some outrageous movie? She shrugged, gave Amy the benefit of the doubt, because taking that conversation too seriously was just too hard, and turned. She strode off down the street, angling toward Baskerville. It didn’t take her long after winding through several laneways to reach it. She counted down until she saw 18. She paused. It was one of the new pricey hotels in town. She scrunched her lips up at it, then stared down.

She was still in the same clothes she’d worn to the police station. The same blood-splattered clothes. She’d done her jacket up and neatened it as best as she could, but a few splatters glimmered on her collar. She yanked her jacket up all the way, patted it down, cleaned the specks of red off with her thumb and some saliva, then winced as she headed up to the doors. A security guy watched them. He frowned at her. “This place has a strict dress code, and you do not muster up.” She locked her hands together and pressed them high in prayer. “I don’t plan to stay for long. Somebody asked me to meet them here. I just need to tell them that I can’t take their case. Then I’ll leave. I promise I won’t touch anything,” she said as if she was a kid trying to be polite. “You do not fit our dress code,” the guy said. Then his expression changed. “Thank you so much,” Mary said. But he wasn’t looking at her. She went to race in, but he locked a hand on her shoulder and yanked her to the side. As she spun around, she saw who he’d been paying attention to. It was none other than Vincent. He didn’t look at her once. After he’d unloaded on her in the lobby of the police station, he’d stalked away. In his head, they’d never have anything to do with each other again. And sure enough, as he walked on by, not once did he stare her way. “Ah, can you help me out here? Can you let this guy know that I’ve had a bad day? I just need to nip into the lobby to see somebody,” Mary called out. “Do not interrupt our valued guests,” the bouncer snapped. Yeah, yeah, Mary hated Vincent and all, but she wasn’t above asking for help when she needed it. “Vincent?” She reached out. She clutched his sleeve. He paused. Though perhaps it was more accurate to say he froze. Maybe he wasn’t used to people getting all tactile on him. Most of the inhabitants of this city were more used to dropping to their knees and licking his feet.

He owed Mary. He finally paid attention to her. By that she meant he slid his gaze over and locked it on her as if it was another knife pressed against her throat. She tried for a smile. “You me, right? From the police station?” “You, I’m afraid, are impossible to forget. Now let go of my sleeve. Do not allow her into the hotel,” Vincent said. When she didn’t let go of his sleeve, he yanked it free and walked into the lobby. “You serious?” Mary spluttered. “You heard him. Doesn’t want you in this hotel. Owns most of it, so that’s pretty much as good as being kicked out for life. On your way.” The bouncer shoved her in the back. She staggered down the stairs, almost slipping. Vincent hadn’t quite made it through the doors yet. He paused. What, did he think she would take advantage of this distraction and run in? Yeah, maybe she would. When she righted herself, she went to dash for the doors, but Vincent pushed through them. He clicked his fingers on the way through, and they shut behind him. Mary reached them. Before she could bang a hand on them, the bouncer had her by the middle. He plucked her up like someone lifting a kitten. He didn’t throw her back down the stairs, just walked down them and dumped her on the street. Then he locked her in a glare that said if she tried that again, he wouldn’t be so polite next time. “The boss says no. So you don’t get to go in. Goodbye.” He waved once, turned, crossed his arms, and took up position back in front of the doors. Mary rolled her eyes. Great.

She pressed her hands in front of herself and smiled. It was all teeth and lips. “Look, I’m just trying to meet someone in there.” The guy brought up a beefy hand, spreading it out like it was a stop sign. “Ain’t interested. The boss said no.” Mary huffed, pursing her lips together and blowing air up against her scrappy fringe. You could describe most of Mary as scrappy most of the time. Including her fighting skills. She never had a great deal to work with. Both financially and physically. But she never backed down from a fight. Lengthening her back as if her diminutive height would ever impress this skyscraper of a man, she held herself back from snarling. “What, is Vincent the boss of the world? He said he partially owns this hotel. That doesn’t mean he manages it, right? I didn’t choose to come here. Somebody called me.” She slapped a hand on her chest. “I don’t want to be here. I’m just going to tell them I don’t want to do the job. Okay?” “Text them. And while you’re there, get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.” The guy did a good job of growling like he was a whole pack of wolves. Did Mary know when to back down? Never. She marched up the steps again, but he was done dealing with her. No more physical attacks. He yanked a hand up from around his middle, twisted his fingers to the side, and chanted something in a low, breathy growl. “Ha?” Mary said. Then the very ground became slippery. The stairs were like ice. She teetered backward. She twisted and rather than fall flat on her face, jumped off the last step. Fortunately the spell didn’t extend to the street. “Hey,” she protested, her rambunctious tones echoing down the street. “This hotel is open to the public. There’s no reason to do that.” He extended a thumb away from the hotel. “You’re gone.” “Excuse me?” She locked her hands harder around her hips. She tried to hold her anger in, but good luck. It kept spiking. Especially whenever her mind was

treacherous enough to throw up the smug face of Vincent. Seriously, she knew ancestral vampires were arrogant and all, but he didn’t own the whole city. He’d met her once. She’d been useful to him, too. And how was she being thanked? By being kicked out of a hotel she didn’t want to visit in the first place. Mary could’ve stayed there all day heckling the guy, but clouds were flooding in. From the look of it, it was about to rain. She wanted to get this done and get home before that happened. Sighing, she walked away. From the front entrance, at least. She darted down a laneway. All hotels like this had back entrances. That’s where all the service staff came through. Yeah, it would be watched, but not actively. Most patrons weren’t ballsy enough to break in the back way. “It’s not breaking in,” she explained to herself, her voice low. She did it quickly, reflexively, almost as if someone had just hit her on the knee with a bat. It was important to establish she wasn’t committing a crime here, see. Her aunt had always underlined that you didn’t act outside of the law. Once Mary had stolen a candy from the local corner store. Suffice to say, she’d been punished for a year. The memory still itched within her, and as she clamped her teeth together, she shook her head once more. “This is work. The woman who called me is distressed. Her daughter has been kidnapped. All I’m here to do is tell her I can’t help. Easy.” By the time she reached the back entrance, she’d explained everything to herself, and there wasn’t a flutter of guilt left anywhere in her. She expected there to be at least security charms on the back door, and she skulked toward it, her tongue locked against her palate. Stronger practitioners

wouldn’t have to do this, but she had to grind her tongue back and forth, back and forth almost as if she was trying to dig a hole through to her brain. Someone like Vincent could detect magical charms. That wasn’t anything to say of a true warlock or a sorceress. But Mary didn’t have that kind of power. While she could detect enchantments, she had to concentrate, just like she did now. If Vincent did own half of this hotel, then it would be a haunt for the vampires. And vampires always brought business. Not necessarily of the good kind. Though you’d hope that most of them were upstanding citizens these days considering they didn’t need to flit around in the shadows stealing people’s blood, they were also rich, and there are fundamental facts about the wealthy that cannot change. Crime follows them like moths to a light. So Mary had to go back to her point that she assumed the back entrance would be guarded by strong security charms. But here’s the thing. It wasn’t. Or maybe it usually was. She thought she could detect residue on the ramp that led up to the half-open door. But whatever the enchantment had once been, it was now defunct. She crept up the ramp, always turning her head this way and that, lest staff might jump out of the shadows and drag her away. Hell, it could be Vincent himself, and she 100 percent didn’t want to run into that guy again. What an arrogant jerk. He still hadn’t thanked her for helping him out, even though she’d almost had her throat slit for him. Tapping her neck and muttering he was a bully, she made it up the ramp, slid a hand over the half-open door, and closed her eyes once more. She ground her tongue against the top of her mouth now. She paused, paused until all of the distractions were thrust away, paused until it felt as if she was giving every single mote of magic in the building a chance to detect her. When nothing happened, she let out a happy sigh. She pushed in the back. Fortunately it didn’t open straight onto a kitchen. There was a storeroom stacked full of crates and drinks and food. It led to a door that sounded as if it opened out onto a bustling corridor.

“Here we go,” she muttered. “Get in and get out. Preferably before it rains.” Mary was never lucky. If the skies could dump on her, they did. Regardless of what any weather report said, they always waited until she was at her most vulnerable, then they rained down a deluge just for her. She inched toward the door. She never had time to open it fully. Just as she detected somebody striding toward her, they reached the door and thrust it open. There was no chance to dart behind one of the crates. All she could do was lock a smile over her lips. One that froze when she recognized the handsome vampire staring back at her. There might not be much light in this room, just that which was coming in from the back door and the corridor beyond, but it still glinted across his memorable hazel eyes. Heck, although his mouth was open only a millimeter, she thought it shimmered along his canines anyway. There was someone with him – a strapping guy who had proportions that looked as if they belonged to a Greek god. Vincent was already tall, but this guy stood several heads above him. “Who the Hell are you?” he growled. “Boss, be careful. She might be—” “She’s not from my competition.” Vincent held his phone, but he tossed it into his pocket. He took time to neaten his cufflinks. What, was he going to beat her up? His eyes flashed. “You understand what tresing is, don’t you, Mary?” Mary yanked her hands up, her muscles twitching. “This isn’t tresing.” “You broke through a security enchantment to get in here.” “I didn’t break through anything. The door was open. I thought… I should come inside and tell somebody, that’s all.” “Indeed. Do you always go around courting trouble?” “I’m not courting trouble. Look, I don’t even want to be here. Somebody called me here, okay?” “You don’t want to be here? And yet you break the law to enter this hotel. Tell

me, do you think someone will protect you?” “Look, I’m not looking for anyone to protect me. And I didn’t break the law. There were no signs telling me I couldn’t come in this way.” “No signs, but a powerful security enchantment. Do you know how much such things cost?” “I couldn’t have broken your fancy spells even if I’d tried. I’m telling you, someone else broke them.” Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “Bates, go and look.” Bates, who’d first looked at Mary like she was an assassin, now faced her like everybody else in this town – as a mess who just happened to know how to walk and talk. He strode over to the back door. He locked a hand, not on it, but a few centimeters up in the air. He closed his eyes and enunciated under his breath. Even from here, Mary could detect his power. Not only was he an imposing physical specimen, but he was one heck of a warlock. With every muttered word, magic danced out around him. Now Bates was distracted, that meant there was nothing to tear Vincent’s attention off her. Sorry. Even when Bates hadn’t been distracted, Vincent hadn’t looked away from her once. Mary’s hands were still in the air, spread wide – a little too wide. There might not be that much natural light in this room, but what there was glinted off the sweat collecting between her webbing. “I didn’t break anything,” she tried again. “Save for my trust.” Her brow clunked down. “Ha? Trust? We just met each other. You don’t trust me.” “True. But I desperately would like to go back to the time when I didn’t know you. Regardless, you have tresed. You will come with me.” “What, what do you mean I’ll come with you?” “The police will be called.”

“But I didn’t tres. There was no sign telling me I couldn’t come in here.” She pointed at the floor with a shaking finger. If her aunt could see what she was doing right now, Millicent wouldn’t just roll in her grave. She’d jump right out of it like an incensed zombie, find Mary, and clap her around the ears. “Bates,” Vincent called, “have you finished?” Bates’s eyes were closed. Magic played up around his face. It darted high over the dark walls, sending light scattering over the ceiling in pleasant patterns. Mary’s magic, when she managed to practice it, was always chaotic. It zipped about as if it were made of drunk fireflies. The more ordered someone’s magic, the more powerful. And the light show Bates put on looked like it had been programmed by a choreographer. Every single new burst of illumination lit up more of the storeroom, playing along the glass of the wine bottles then scattering over the polished concrete floor. It reached Vincent, lighting up his expression. She didn’t need it. She knew the dark look in his gaze was no act. She was just where he wanted her, and he wouldn’t budge. She let her hands drop. “Look, I haven’t had the greatest day. Some idiot tried to cut me.” He tilted his head to the side, his lips twitching. It was as if he was frustrated, but Mary couldn’t understand what he had the right to care about. “Some idiot tried to cut you?” She slapped her bandage. She could feel it crinkling up around her neck. “Yeah. Did you forget already?” “No,” Vincent said out of thin lips, “I didn’t forget. Though perhaps you did. He didn’t try to cut you. He tried to slit your throat. This wasn’t the equivalent of a grazed knee. And you will,” his voice hit this reverberating pitch that made it sound as if it wanted to resurface the very face of the planet, “not touch that enchantment again. You will come with me.” He turned around hard on his foot, his shoe moving so quickly, it was a surprise wisps of steam didn’t erupt from underneath it.

When Mary just stood there, blinking and wondering why Vincent got off on being so angry at her, he turned slowly, menacingly. Mary hadn’t had too much to do with vampires over the years. Yeah, okay, her spiel was there was no job too big or small, but there were some races she couldn’t investigate, races she didn’t have a hope to fight, no matter how hard she tried and no matter how deeply she dug. So she’d never faced that look before. As her stomach clenched and cold sweat spread across her shoulders and slid down her spine, she understood how vampires had once been the most terrifying of all the races. “Do you wish for me to grab your wrist and pull you on? You are now in my custody. You will walk, or—” “You will drag me?” She blinked. He just narrowed his eyes. “No. Or Bates carries you. Now come.” She shot a longing look at the door. This had been one Hell of a bad day. She should’ve just texted that woman and said she couldn’t come. But Mary’s conscience always got the better of her. She’d stupidly wanted to see the lady, grab her hand, and say that anyone but Mary could help her out. Now what had that kind act achieved? Why, it’d got Mary so knee-deep in trouble, she’d never get free. Awesome. Just freaking awesome. She was certain that things could get no worse, but this would be the day from Hell. Literally.

5

Vincent

Mary was an unnecessary wrinkle at an already critical juncture. He knew it was a reach to keep her in custody. She’d been snooping, and she had technically tresed, but he had a method to his madness. He reached the right door and gestured toward it. “You wait here until the police arrive.” She turned on him, her gaze flashing. He wanted to pause, point to his chest, and remind her he was a vampire. Mary needed reminders, apparently. For someone versed in this magical world, she couldn’t detect threats. It’d been the same back in the police station. She hadn’t even blinked when that shifter had attempted to cut her throat. And even now, she patted at the enchantment far too much. Vincent knew it would hurt. He hadn’t received an injury similar, but considering his position and the risks in his life, he was well versed in advanced first-aid techniques. Right now, cold pressure should spread down her throat. She should also be weak. Yet here she was, on her feet, plucky enough to have an argument with him. Did he have to remind her he was one of the most powerful vampires in the city? Vincent didn’t enjoy elitism. What he was trying to point out was that Mary seemed to lack context wherever she went. She was oblivious to the greater world. And people like that didn’t last long in a town like this. He opened the door and gestured in. Her head darted back. “Look, it’s not tresing.”

“It is, and no matter how much you argue, it will be irrelevant. Now walk inside, Mary. The police will be here shortly.” “As if they’re going to use important resources to pick up a so-called treser.” She made air quotes. “I get it, okay? I will go home.” She had the temerity to cross her arms and stare up into his eyes as if he was nothing but an ordinary person. He understood that people like Mary excelled at arguing. He shouldn’t say people like Mary. He had met no one quite like her. But he had to go back to the fact she couldn’t sense danger. Even now, she plucked at her enchantment. That was the last straw. He pointed at the room. “In.” She spluttered. “I’m not your loyal hound.” “No, because you’re clearly not loyal.” She snarled at him. He needed to get back to Bates to figure out who had broken the enchantment on the door – and no, he didn’t for a second think it was Mary. She, as she had already pointed out, lacked the strength to do such a thing. But trust Vincent, there were plenty of practitioners in this town both with the strength and motivation to break into his hotel. Vincent’s competition would want to know if he had found a new wife yet. And he would. Soon. He was having auditions today. By the end of the week, he would be married, and he would have someone to fight for him in the arena. He didn’t need a distraction like this at such an important time. He pointed to the room again. He would keep Mary in here until the police came. They could try to track down whoever had broken into his hotel. It was safer for Mary to be here than out there. Not only would she be a nuisance, but if there was somebody snooping around, he didn’t want anybody getting caught up in the trouble. Especially not somebody who seemed to be a magnet for it.

His finger remained outstretched, directed at the open door. “Do you want me to shove you in there?” “That would be assault. Plus,” she shot him a look, “you don’t seem to be the kind to get physical.” “And how do you know what kind I am?” He crossed his arms hard in front of his chest. “I just do. You’re not even really going to charge me with tresing, are you? This is just to prove you’re in control, isn’t it? Can we skip that bit? I need to find that lady and tell her I’m not interested in her case.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Someone called me out of the blue—” He extended a hand. “And I do not wish to know what you’re talking about. You will stay here until the police arrive.” He pointed into the room one last time. “I’m not your loyal dog,” she hissed. “You have already said that. And you’re not my anything. On that we can agree. Sorry, you are something – you’re currently in my custody. Now, Mary,” he said through a flash of his teeth, and when vampires spoke between their pearly whites, most people ran for cover, “get inside.” Most people, that was, except for Mary. “I don’t have the time.” “What? Don’t want to take long out of your busy schedule of tracking down lost cats?” He couldn’t keep the amused snarl out of his words. Mary was impossible to dent. You rarely faced someone with such an impeccable sense of self-esteem. Most people knew their limitations. And when you were magical, and you were weak like Mary, it was worse than if you didn’t have any power at all. An ordinary person with Mary’s force wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t bother getting out of bed in the morning. Not in this hellhole of a town. “Can we just cut to the bit where you let me out already?” she pleaded with him.

He pointed as hard as he could at the door. A small charge of magic raced across his fingertip. “You will get in that room, and you will do so now. You will be dealt with when the police arrive. Do you understand?” He heard footsteps. They were hurried, and it was Bates. Based on just how fast they were, whatever Bates had found out in the storeroom was not good news. Mary picked it up too. She might not seem like she was observant, but though she had no magic, she had other senses. She inclined her head toward Bates. “That’s that guy from before, ha? Wonder what his problem is?” Bates hadn’t come into view yet. How could she recognize him based solely on his footfall? Vincent arched an eyebrow but didn’t stop pointing toward the open room. “You have two options.” “I can walk in on my own, or Bates can shove me in? Got it.” She snapped a mock salute. He didn’t correct her. The other choice had been for Vincent to carry her in, but he didn’t much feel like offering that option anymore. Bates came into view. Mary inclined her head all the way around and watched him, her gaze darting over his face. Though Vincent wanted to believe that looks could be deceiving, she seemed to be competent. Her gaze darted from Bates’s worried, narrowed eyes down to his drawn lips then over to his shoulders that were dropped further down than they usually were, then down to his shoes. A few charges of magic crackled across them, but they didn’t have the same familiar yellow golden glow of Bates’s own force. They were remnants of the spell he’d picked up. For them to still be on his body meant they were powerful. Most warlocks and magical creatures could break and disburse enchantments that dared touch them. Bates was no pushover. Which meant the enchantment he’d broken was even

less of a pushover. Mary’s nostrils flared. “That smells like sulfur and orange. “That’s a sorceress’s enchantment.” Bates came to a stop, shooting Mary a suitably impressed look. Then he did what Vincent couldn’t. Bates pointed one beefy finger at the door. “It’s time to go inside, Miss.” Surprisingly, Mary knew what was good for her. She opened her hands wide. She took the time to shoot Vincent an irritated look, then walked in and closed the door. Vincent indulged in a sigh. A deep one that shook right up out of his chest and through his clenched lips. He reached over, locked a hand on the door, and shut it with a magical lock. “What do you have for me?” “Bad news. That woman was right. Sorceress’s enchantment. Whoever it was wasn’t messing around. They didn’t just break through the security lock. They broke through the recording spells, too.” “Any idea when they broke in?” “Hard to say. Might’ve only been a few hours ago. Might’ve been last night.” “Are you telling me that someone might’ve had free rein in this hotel for the past 24 hours?” “Worst case scenario.” “That’s an understatement. 24 hours is a very long time to place hidden enchantments. Get hold of security. Start scanning everything. I don’t need any surprises.” He pulled his lapels down and started to neaten his appearance. Technically, though he was about to hold auditions, they could also be classed as dates. That right there was a word he hadn’t thought of in a long time. Vincent had given up the possibility of ever marrying for love ever since the city had taken a turn for the worse. From now until the day he died, the most important person

who would share his life would fight for him in the ring. And it was nigh time to find another Mrs. Flagstaff. He shot the door one last wary look. Mary hadn’t beaten on it. By the sounds of it, she’d just sat down in one of the plastic seats beyond. He spent a little too long looking at the door until he yanked his gaze away, turned, and strode out into the hotel lobby. He had a wife to find.

6

Mary

She sat there on a crappy plastic chair, staring at an empty, plain wall, her lips so scrunched in, she could’ve digested them. “What a day,” she hissed as she tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling for a change of scenery. It was just as plain. Vincent had picked the most boring room in the hotel for her to wait in. The police would take an age to come, if they ever did. She might die and be entombed in here. Great. She pushed to her feet. It wasn’t the first time. There were a few cupboards in here and a sink. There was a glass, but she wasn’t thirsty. As she locked a hand on her rumbling stomach, however, she realized she was pretty darn hungry. Hungry she would stay. She checked the cupboards again and again, but no food miraculously appeared there. Sliding her nails down her scalp, she scratched at it, sighed, turned, and flopped back in the plastic seat. She tilted back on the chair legs until she stared right up at the ceiling. This seat was cheap and old. Maybe Vincent was a scrooge at heart. Though she was no expert, the chair was like 50 years old. It wasn’t designed to allow somebody to lean back on. The legs protested more and more. Vincent seemed to be irritated every time she put herself into needless danger. If he came back into the room and she flopped out of her seat onto her skull with a bone-shaking crunch, who knew what he’d do? Even though it was darn childish, she laughed at the thought.

It soon petered out. She twisted around and stared at the door. She hadn’t bothered to try it. She’d felt Vincent casting an enchantment on it. She knew she’d never get the power to break through such a spell. Why waste her time and energy trying? She tapped on her chin, pressed her tongue against her lips, and even drummed it a bit like she’d start a song. When that grew boring, she closed her eyes. She flopped forward and went to fall asleep, but that would be when she heard just the slightest hiss. She opened one eye. She stared at the door. It hadn’t come from there though, had it? She pressed her fingers into her lips. It wasn’t as if she was checking to see if she’d made that hiss. She frowned over at the sink. She jumped up and checked the tap. Water sloshed down into the basin, but it didn’t hiss. She soon shrugged and headed back to her seat. Scarcely had she dropped her body down into it when the hiss came back. It was louder now, and she knew where it came from. Above her. She inclined her head all the way back, her neck muscles straining. She frowned at the ceiling. Was it… had it just gotten a little lower? She’d been paying a heck of a lot of attention to it, so she knew every mark and every bulge. Was there a new crack right at the back there? She shoved up. She kept inclining her head from side to side as she stopped underneath the crack. She pushed up onto her tippy toes. She kept detecting the hiss. It wasn’t in her imagination. It was sharp but didn’t sound like steam. More like an animal. Still scratching her head, she wondered if there could be a rat up there. She went over to the plastic chair, dragged it over – not caring that she marked the floor – and stood on it. She reached up. She wasn’t tall enough. She pushed onto her tippy toes. That might’ve given her a

few more centimeters, but it wasn’t sufficient to bridge the gap between her and the ceiling. Mary shouldn’t have to tell you she had precious little magic. What she had sufficed for only certain spells. She could track down lost cats if they were only in your backyard, and she could detect enchantments. Lucky for her, she only needed one of those skills right now, and there sure as heck wasn’t a meandering feline up in the ventilation shaft. As the tiniest spark of magic raced across her fingertips, Mary realized there was a growing enchantment up in the ceiling. There was one important word there. Growing. “What the heck?” The words were out. She didn’t have time to add anything, couldn’t even breathe. Something sliced down from the ceiling, shoving through that crack and widening it with all the ease of someone punching a hand through a paper sheet. A spark lanced down into her fingers and grabbed hold of her. Magic raced down her body, bright white and as powerful as a flare. It traveled down her, twisted along the plastic frame of the chair, and sank into the floor. Mary didn’t even have time to scream. A hole opened underneath her. She tumbled right down through it along with the plastic chair. She entered a void space, which was exactly as it sounded. Mary couldn’t create one herself, but even if she couldn’t practice strong magic, her aunt had always made her learn the details of every spell she could. Now it sure came in handy. Mary knew what she’d encountered – a looping transport spell. It would take her from one point to another. And it sure as heck did. Soon the darkness ended, and Mary and the plastic chair

tumbled down onto the roof. She might’ve only had a moment to check the surrounding view, but that’s all she needed to recognize she was on top of the same hotel. She placed her sweaty hands down, head snapping around as the spell discharged underneath her. With a thwack, the plastic chair landed against her back. She groaned and rolled to the side, grabbing one of her shoulder blades and rubbing it hard. Then she pushed up. “Vincent? Is that you? Are you trying to teach me a lesson?” She breathed through her words, her chest incapable of pushing out to accommodate each new inhalation. “Vincent?” she asked, her voice way too high. There wasn’t much on the roof. Ventilation equipment, a railing that stopped people from jumping off the edge, and a helipad. There was no antsy vampire. It was just her and the chair. She stuck way too close to it as if it was her new friend. Scrunching her lips through her teeth, she shoved onto her tippy toes. It didn’t give her the vantage she needed. Vincent wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You know what was here, though? Her nostrils flared. She detected the scent of strong magic. She turned just in time, dodging to the side. A fist appeared out of nowhere. She didn’t mean she wasn’t fast enough to track it. It literally appeared out of nowhere space. The owner of the hand remained in that void realm Mary had traveled through only seconds before. As Mary dodged the fist and it sliced past her face, she saw magic crackling along every single knuckle. Owner of said fist wasn’t messing about. This wasn’t a light brawl. If Mary allowed herself to be struck by those knuckles, it

would be lights out permanently. She grunted, jerked back, struck the ground, and rolled, distributing the force of the move. She shoved up just as the fist lanced past her knee. She twisted. She jumped up. Her assailant grunted, shot forward, and wrapped a hand around Mary’s arm. Mary had no intention of letting them hold on to her for long. While magic sank into her, she didn’t waste a single scrap of her force. She concentrated on breaking their grip instead. She jumped, then let her knees fall out from underneath her. It made for a heck of a lot of downward pressure. It broke the person’s grasp. She said person. She could only feel a hand, but she would guarantee that whoever was holding her was a woman. They were a heckuva strong practitioner, too. She could feel real magic surging through their veins. The woman hissed. She sounded like a snake. Now Mary had broken free, she reached toward the only weapon she could find. It was that same plastic chair. Heaving it up, she grunted and used it as a shield. The woman just laughed, her voice high and teetering. There was something about it that Mary thought she ed. Mary thrust forward. No hesitating. Other people might hold back, realizing they didn’t have a chance of fighting a crazy angry sorceress half stuck in void space. No thoughts flitted across Mary’s mind. Nothing other than picking the chair up and swinging it around in an arc. She still didn’t use magic. It was hopeless. Just a few sparks here and there to give her a little speed, to give her a little more strength. If there was one thing her aunt had taught her, it was that you never wasted your strength. Other folk who’d gone through Millicent’s orphanage hadn’t learned that lesson. Yeah, they were always careful with their stamina, but not like Mary. She had no reserves in the first place, so she rarely tapped into them. The sorceress came at Mary again, this time appearing right by Mary’s side. Mary grunted, thrust backward, and rolled once more. The sorceress was fast, but she relied way too much on enchantments. One sliced past Mary’s shoulder, but it didn’t reach her. It crackled up into the air. Mary watched it. The magic was this horrid dark green like it was rotting, as if someone had scattered some

kind of virus into the air and it was busy breaking apart all of that essential oxygen and nitrogen. As it sparked close to Mary, she caught the scent of it, too. Deadly. Whoever this sorceress was, she knew how to fight. And this wasn’t the first time she’d gone Hell for leather. Mary rolled up again, grabbed the chair, and held it in front of herself as if it was a glorified magical talisman. As her fingers tightened around it, her eyes darted this way and that. She wasn’t looking for a way out of here, just another weapon. “You’re harder to put down than I thought. Time to take you on a little adventure, then,” the sorceress hissed. She hadn’t been modulating her voice back when she’d laughed. Now it had magical enchantments cast on it to ensure that Mary couldn’t detect it properly. She still frowned. In between the enchantment, she swore she recognized something. What had just been a niggling recollection now turned into a raging fire in her head. She’d heard that voice – only today in fact. She didn’t have time to dodge. The sorceress didn’t reach her – but her enchantment did. Void space opened underneath Mary again, yanking her down before she could scream. She grabbed hold of her chair, and she clutched one leg against her chest like a bosom buddy. She fell right back down through that opening black hole. She didn’t see anything, couldn’t. That was the whole point of void space. It was there to remind any practitioner that there was no force as great as nothingness. She slammed down into a real object half a second later when void space ejected her like someone spitting out a half-chewed nut. Fortunately for her, she appeared in a room and not down on the city street. Less fortunately, she didn’t appear on the soft king-size bed only a few meters away. She smashed down onto the floor beside it. She grunted, rounding her shoulders, knowing how to distribute the force of any fall. That was one thing Mary could do with aplomb. She could take most blows,

and she could always jump to her feet afterward. Which is what she did now. The bed creaked and rumpled as somebody landed down onto it. It was the sorceress, and she had to have a light, quick form. One that was so crackling with magic that it could’ve set the sheets alight. Sparks escaped over them, making the cotton singe in a scattering pattern that revealed her position. She still wasn’t all the way out of void space. But a lot of her body had to be in the real world, though it was still invisible. It still meant there was something for Mary to fight. Though there were other things to clutch at in this room, including another chair to her side, Mary stuck to what she knew. She swung her trusty plastic seat in an arc, not attempting to attack the sorceress, but using it as an indication of just how wide her spell was. As the seat twisted to the left, Mary detected a few sparks. The void spell was still cast on this room. Or rather, it was cast in a circumference around the sorceress. If Mary wanted to flee, she had to get out of its reach. As she swung her chair to the side again, she felt when it left void space completely. It was over near the window. Mary threw herself toward it without even a thought about how high up she was. In her head, she’d throw herself onto the balcony – then she’d think about what to do afterward. She didn’t get to the balcony. “Smarter than you look,” the woman hissed. She reached Mary again. With a pulse, her void spell opened up wider. “Come here,” the sorceress hissed. Once more, a hole opened underneath Mary. Great. Unless she had the chance to break this spell and knock the sorceress out, she wouldn’t get out of this alive. Void spells like this could just keep on going. They could open up and port you to anywhere within the spell’s circumference as many times as you wanted. Mary could fall through this hotel for the rest of the darn day. Unless she did something.

She traveled through void space briefly. She clutched her chair so tightly this time, it would’ve taken an entire army to wrench it from her grip. She landed down on cold concrete. She was ready for it, and she rolled. She thrust to her feet, grabbed up her chair, and let the faintest crackle of magic dart over her skin. It was just enough to light up this dark expanse of a room. She had to be in some kind of basement. It was big, and training equipment filled it. She saw crash mats, gym gear, and magical devices, too. It looked like someone was training an army down here. Or if not an army, then one seriously strong warrior. “Ah, this brings back old memories,” the sorceress hissed. Then she lanced toward Mary with a kick. Mary still couldn’t see the sorceress, but that was irrelevant. She’d now refined her senses enough that she could detect where the woman was based on the air currents. It was easy enough for Mary to dodge back. She somehow kept a hold of her chair as she rolled, punched up, hunkered low, and sniffed. Soon enough, if Mary concentrated and gathered enough data, she would be able to detect the circumference of the spell without having to use the chair as a sacrificial object. It was already covered with scattered burns, the white plastic bulging like a half-melted marshmallow. Better it than Mary. She powered to the side, rolled, and reached a vaulting box. With one hand, she flipped right over it. “Impressive. You are a much better fighter than you look. Yet you have no magic to back up all of that grunt with,” the sorceress laughed. Mary knew a magical attack was coming a second before it powered into her side. She prepared for it, centering her body, capturing hold of her own magic and sinking it deep into her chest. Most magicians didn’t know how to take an attack. They feared being physically beaten, so they used their magic as a shield. But every time you did that, you wasted more and more of your magic. Mary? She knew how to take a hit and then another. Heck, you could beat her up with an army of sorceresses, and she’d still know how to pick herself up afterward. She did that now. Lines of blood slid down her brow, but Mary didn’t flinch, and she didn’t rock back. She shoved forward, the plastic seat in her hand. She sliced

it around in a great wide arc. That tiny little spark of magic she’d been holding onto slid down into the plastic, shot across the bubbled surface, and sank into the sorceress’s face. It was nothing, nothing more than a slap, but it was well-placed and perfectly timed. Mary heard the sorceress splutter, even saw a single droplet of blood splatter out. It wasn’t encomed by the void spell, so Mary detected it, all right. She could see it glimmering with real force as it shimmered in the air and splashed onto the crash mats under Mary’s feet. “How dare you,” the sorceress spluttered. If Mary were one for trash talk, maybe this was where she’d point out they were in a fight, and the gloves were off. She’d also note that for an all-powerful sorceress, this woman was sure taking her time. Mary concentrated. This room was almost perfect for fighting. Not only did it have crash mats, but it had other magical gear. Mary had to go back to the fact it felt as if someone was trained down here. “Wrong place to fight me. This was my old haunt, little witch. Now say goodbye.” Something sliced past Mary’s ear. From the sound of it, it was a magical sword. It didn’t just slash through the air, but it whistled. Mary thrust out of the way just in time, rolled, and punched up. Her eyes were wide, her senses focused. She didn’t rely on her magic. Heck, she shoved it away. Magic would always impede a human’s natural senses. While most magical folks thought human senses were there to be impeded, considering their inherent limitations, most folks didn’t know how to use their own bodies. Magic could block you off to sounds and sights, could narrow your mind and stop you from appreciating what loomed in front of your nose.

As Mary concentrated, she detected the sword – could hear it as it whistled through the air. It was right by the left side of her face, so she pirouetted to the right, her shoes leaving marks along the crash mats. They were self-healing. Even as the sword was sliced right down into one of them, a magical spell appeared over the surface, crackling into the crash mat until it was fixed and as good as new. Mary sure would like to have a spell like that on her face. Her brow was still cut, and glistening blood splattered out of it. She’d received worse injuries. Bring it on. The sword sliced to her right. She kicked back, rolled, punched up, and thrust out with the chair. She smashed it into the sorceress’s stomach. By the sounds of it, she’d just brought the sword up high, so there was nothing protecting her torso. Big mistake. The woman spluttered. Another droplet of blood splashed out and ed the other one on the crash mat. This one was charged with force. When strong practitioners started to practice magic, that magic coursed through their bodies via their bloodstream. You could tell how much someone was charging by finding droplets of their blood and checking how much they crackled. Based on the sight Mary now saw, this sorceress intended to become as bright as a star to burn right through Mary. Mary backed off again. “Come here,” the sorceress screamed. “Yeah, right,” Mary chuckled. She rolled to the side, now confident she knew where the sword was at all times. It was a big mistake for the sorceress to use it. It was easily trackable – far more trackable than the sorceress had been when she’d been relying on her own skills. It allowed Mary to twist to the side and get behind the woman. She brought her plastic chair up and down, smashing it right over the sorceress’s head with a ringing thump.

A few more splatters of blood ed their friends on the crash mat. “Impossible. You have no magic. Has he cast something on you? Has he wasted more of his precious ancestral blood?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “I don’t care what you think you’re capable of – nobody messes with me.” The thing about sorceress blood is that once it’s out of the body, it’s still technically connected to its master. And when its master charges with magic, so too does it. Mary just had to slice her head to the side to see that the light scattering over the crash mat now became as bright as a supernova. No more messing around, ha? The sorceress was readying for one last fatal attack, and it would be lights out for Mary for good.

7

Vincent

He sat at the table, his perfect suit framed by the sunshine behind him. A single wedding ring sat on the polished wood in front of him. It wasn’t the one he had given Amy. He had burnt that already. He’d smelted the gold down then scattered it. Bates was over by the door. He gave Vincent the thumbs-up sign. Suffice to say, Vincent didn’t replicate the move. He didn’t need luck. He had to make this decision based on facts, not feelings. He’d chosen Amy because of the way she’d made him feel, and look where that had gotten him? “The first one’s here,” Bates said. “Lily Somerset. Ex-army sorceress,” he muttered. Vincent didn’t need the refresher. He’d gone over every single application, rating them based on their power. As Lily walked in, she had an aura of strength you could see through a wall. She strode right up to Vincent. Rather than sit down, she nodded at him once. “You want a fighter.” She bounced her hand off her chest. “I’m a natural-born fighter.” “Please take a seat.” She didn’t slice her gaze down to the ring once. Some people did. For some people, that was the first thing they saw. It wasn’t just gold, see. It had a blood-

red ancestral vampire diamond in the middle. One that was worth a cool $50 million. For some, they only wanted his wealth. For others, they wanted his training. Which is what Lily was interested in. She looked back toward Bates, then over to Vincent. “I’ll do anything.” Vincent nodded. He didn’t make eye with her. The whole while, he tracked where she stared, tracked what happened to her body. She gazed over at Bates again, then back at Vincent. Bates trained every one of Vincent’s fighters, and it was a well-known fact. “What will you use your training for?” Vincent muttered. “Ha? I will serve you. I’ll be your loyal fighter. That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” It was all he should care about. But it wasn’t true. Yes, Vincent needed someone to fight for him in the arena. Somebody who wasn’t there for his wealth. Vincent wasn’t a ‘take your cake and eat it’ kind of man. He’d grown up in the brutal world of vampire politics. There was no wool over his eyes. It had been removed, blow-by-blow, as this world had taken everything including his family from him. But he still had hopes and dreams. And one such foolish dream was that one day, he wanted to marry somebody who shared his goal. It wasn’t fighting, wasn’t learning to be the strongest warrior in the city, and it sure as Hell wasn’t diamonds and gold. He needed somebody who wanted to protect this city, no matter what. But he would never find them. He rose. He nodded toward the door. “Thank you for your time.” “You haven’t even seen what I’m capable of yet.” “Indeed, Lily. We will call you with the results soon.” “There’s no fighter like me.” “But I’m not after a fighter,” he said in a moment of weakness, knowing it was always politer to keep his deeper thoughts to himself.

“Then what do you want?” she growled. “Someone who wants to protect others and nothing more.” Vincent turned, sat down, grabbed up the wedding band, rolled it in his fingers, then turned back to the view.

8

Mary

The sorceress was now fully charged. The room crackled with power. The woman didn’t care that her power made her visible. As it arced and crackled around her form, Mary could see the outline of her body. She was strong, lithe, and beautiful. Mary watched as her hair fanned around her face. She couldn’t see every detail, but it was long and lustrous and probably shined like diamonds, too. You know what else shined? The deadly charge of magic that built along the tip of the sorceress’s sword. Mary watched it but didn’t flinch and back off. She’d already detected that the sword was a powerful magical accumulator. And now it pulsed with force – it became bright enough and strong enough to blast right through half of the city. Mary yanked her hands up and spread them wide. The sorceress cackled. “It’s too late for that. You’ve gone past the point of no return. You shouldn’t have messed with us.” “I’m not even sure who I messed with. I don’t know who you work for, and I don’t care. But you shouldn’t charge that sword like that. You could take out half of the block.” “I don’t need a lesson from you. Now die.” The sorceress shot forward. She swung the blade around. It didn’t just sing. It shrieked through the air now. It sounded like trapped souls. Mary shouldn’t have been able to dodge the blow, but she timed it, paying attention to the arc of the move and knowing which direction most of the power would discharge in. Just at the last moment, she twisted, rolled, and punched up behind the sorceress. The blow from her sword sliced into the far wall. It gouged a massive hole through it. It should’ve forced it

to crumple. And if it had been important for the structural of this tower, the whole thing should’ve come down around Mary’s ears. But this room was reinforced. Someone really had been training down here. “Lucky dodge,” the sorceress snarled. “You will not get another. You’re good at defense, but not offense.” Twisting around, she leaped high into the air, her whole body now aflame. Force ruptured off her. Mary glanced down at the few droplets of her blood on the crash mat and saw they now vibrated with magic. They looked like they wanted to lift off the blue fabric and spin in a vortex of pure power. Very few people could imbue their blood with that much energy. Very few people would dare to, anyway. Mary had to go back to her lessons. Magic was all very good, but the more you relied on it and the less you used your senses, the duller they became. When magic filled your body, you would lose all sense of proportionality, all self-awareness, too. Mary didn’t grunt, didn’t scream, didn’t even pause to suck in several breaths. She ran to the side, right toward a bank of humming equipment at the other end of the room. She had no clue what they did, but they had to be important to training somehow. Maybe they sensed a warrior’s inherent strength. No, not maybe. As Mary ran toward them, planted a hand on the top of the closest device and leaped right over it, there was a beep. She saw a flash of the screen underneath her. It had quickly taken a scan of her body. It detected how much magic she had on board, and she shouldn’t have to glance at the screen to tell you the result wasn’t impressive. A number flashed on the screen. 0.01. The sorceress snarled, laughed, and shot toward Mary. This device was strong enough to pick up anyone as long as they were close, not just in physical . As the sorceress flew on by, it detected her reading, proudly proclaiming she was at 99 percent. Mary didn’t know what that meant. Was it a measure of her potential or her raw power? Probably the latter. So you’d assume Mary would lose, right? Maybe.

She sure as heck hadn’t lost yet, though. The sorceress sliced her sword again. Mary timed the move and dodged. The attack shot over her shoulder, rammed itself into a wall, and tore off a massive chunk of concrete that scattered into sparking dust. As each scrap danced along the crash mats, they burnt the blue fabric. Most of it healed, but it couldn’t do that forever. There was a limit to how much it could fix and how much this room could take. As she jerked her head up and stared at the ceiling, she attuned to its structural integrity. A simple spell – one that required naught but a mote of magic. The ceiling was holding up. But if the sorceress kept charging, it sure as heck wouldn’t for long. Mary yanked her head back down, clenched her teeth, and hissed through them. “Are you mad? If you keep going, you’re gonna take out this entire hotel.” “He’ll just buy another.” “Wait, you mean Vincent? You know him?” “I’m uncomfortably familiar with him. Now, less talk, more dying.” The sorceress sliced out left and right, and these two powerful arcs of power spun through the room. There was nowhere for Mary to go to dodge. She could dart down, or she could leap up, but the slices of magic were smart. They’d follow her. So there was only one thing to do. Allow them to meet in the middle. Magic often canceled itself out. You get an attack that’s the same as another, and the forces will meet in the middle. What few people know, however, is that when they met, it’d form a kind of eye of the storm, creating a nullifying field that would spread for a few meters, depending on the strength of the blows. What Mary was trying to get at was that if she let the attacks meet directly in her middle, their destructive power wouldn’t hurt her. It might reach the walls and take them down, but she’d be fine. To allow them to meet in the middle of her, she had to thrust into the attacks and

time this perfectly. She focused her mind, cutting away all other extraneous information, making sure she was nothing but a set of feet and hands attached to an automatic brain. She shoved up. She wouldn’t look nearly as impressive as the sorceress. Power didn’t blast over Mary. Nothing but strength pumped in her muscles. But she rose. And she did it. Both attacks met in the middle of Mary. It was one heck of an experience to have them smash right through her only for the force to be canceled out before it could turn destructive and rip her down as easily as an old building under a wrecking ball. A pulse of nervous energy spiraled through her, matched with a pang of fear that shuddered down her spine. But both disappeared as soon as the spells exploded out of her. The eye of the storm only lasted for about two meters around Mary. Everything else beyond that point was blown up as a shockwave of force ruptured through the room. It even affected the sorceress. She was thrust back. She went spinning. She lost hold of her sword. It twisted out of her grip, spun several times in the air, then fell into one of the crash mats, burning right through and slicing past its fixing spell. It embedded down to its hilt in the concrete. The sorceress grabbed her face. Even though her body was outlined by magic, Mary swore she could see a cut appear over the woman’s cheek. More blood splattered out. It marked the now churned up concrete. Mary didn’t jerk forward and aim for the sword. To lift a blade like that would take a lot of energy. She’d do it eventually, but only when the move would matter most. For now, she stuck with the plastic chair, thank you very much. The sorceress screamed, the sound so crippling, it was the vocal equivalent of a hurricane. Then the woman rocked forward, locked her hands on her light encased knees, and screamed again. She imbued the shout with enough force that another shockwave blasted out. This one was easy enough to dodge. Mary darted down to her knees and covered her head with her hands. Once the shockwave ed, she rolled, thrust up, and yanked her trusty chair with her. She held it in front of herself like a shield. Seriously, her expression was just the same as if she had cast a level X containment force field. “How are you still alive? How are you still alive?” the sorceress screamed.

“I know how to fight scrappy,” Mary muttered. She stared at the sword. It was still there, glowing brightly. She just had to reach it at the right moment and wield it once. That was all the magic in her body would allow her to do. The sorceress was now so frustrated, she wafted in the air, screaming, shockwave after shockwave slamming into the walls. They held up, but whole chunks of them were now gouged out. Concrete scattered everywhere, turning into rubble that sparked as if it was aflame. It was – just with magic. There were some seriously strong enchantments cast on this room. Mary had to go back to the fact someone had been trained in here. And that someone was this very sorceress. She plucked up a hand, opened it wide above her head, and chanted. There were no lights on in this room. The illumination came from the sorceress’s own fireencased body. But now that dimmed. It wasn’t to say that she got less powerful. It was to say she bled force out of her to produce a singular great attack that pulsed over her fingers like a heart made of pure flame. As shadows whirled behind Mary and that attack became brighter and brighter, she stared at the sword once more. Her opportunity was coming right up. “You shouldn’t have messed with the Rite Gang,” she hissed. Then the sorceress attacked. There’d be no dodging the blow. There’d certainly be no meeting it in the middle. When it hit Mary, and it would, it would rip her body apart. Unless she gave it something else to rip apart. Now. She threw herself forward, running as fast as she could. She sprinted full pelt right over the smoldering crash mats, and a few splatters of the sorceress’s glowing crimson blood splashed up over Mary’s pants. She could feel their force darting through the fabric, but she sure as heck didn’t let it distract her. She reached the sword, fell on her knees, and plucked it up. She wrenched it out of the floor. She didn’t use her magic, wouldn’t dare. Do that, and the sword would

try to drain more of her power. So she just used her upper arm strength. She twisted the sword around just as the sorceress’s attack met her. Mary grunted and parried. The sword was a strong weapon. But it was nowhere near as powerful as the sorceress’s final attack. It had something else, though. The sword was also charged with the sorceress’s power. Any magician knows that you shouldn’t pit your own power against itself. Especially if you were maintaining a connection with that power externally. It was complicated, but it violated the magical rule that the self should not fight the self. If you turned your magic against your own magic, it would create a recursive vortex. Strong magic seeks sources of strength to break down so it can become more powerful. When it loses the ability to break things down outside, it turns within. As the violent magical blow struck the sword, the sorceress screamed. Her body had been so bright before, you could’ve run a city with it. Now cracks appeared across her front. Mary almost saw her face, but the sorceress twisted, fell out of the air, and crashed down onto a mat. The sword in Mary’s hand started to crack. She didn’t let go, though, and soon held onto nothing but the hilt as charred scraps of black metal fell all around her. “Impossible,” the sorceress said. “Never attack one of your enchantments,” Mary said, her voice even, no hint of fear anywhere in her. Heck, her brain still hadn’t caught up to the fact she was in a fight for her life. You might think that was a thing of the past, that she’d won, but you’d be wrong. The sorceress hissed. She was still in control of the void spell. Mary twisted. She needed a weapon, something other than the broken hilt in her hand. The only thing within reach was a trusty plastic seat. She grabbed it up just as the void snagged hold of her. She was yanked back down to that black expanse. This time she heard the sorceress’s keening cries. Based on the exact pitch, the

woman had lost all reason. She was now going to do whatever she could to kill Mary and end this. For the first time, Mary shook. Then she landed down on something hard. It was a table. As she smashed into it, she saw somebody jerk out of a chair beside her. Mary coughed and spluttered up blood, but she rolled off the table. Something dug into her back. It tumbled down onto her shoe. It was a vampire wedding ring of all things. She had a chance to see that, but then the sorceress appeared. Her glowing hand reached out of the void. So what did Mary do? She attacked. All this time, she’d been on defense. Now it was time to use the very little offense she had. She didn’t even scream. Why waste her vocal force? Your breath is one of the most important things you have in a fight. Mary channeled it and all her paltry power into her plastic chair. Sparks erupted over it. To be fair, it wasn’t accurate to say they erupted. They fizzled, almost like a coal thrown into water. But they were still there, and they meant everything. To end this, Mary just had to break the void spell. If the sorceress was still inside, it would take her a while to get out. It would give Mary a chance to call the police. She’d already said multiple times, despite her spiel, that she knew her limitations. She slammed the plastic chair into the void, using its legs to transfer her spell into the growing crack. She wasn’t aware of the room around her. There were people, though. And someone rushed up behind her. She’d deal with it once this was done. The sorceress’s hand extended, and spells charged along her fingers, but it worked. Mary broke the enchantment. She wouldn’t have had a chance of doing

that if she hadn’t forced the sorceress to attack herself. But now Mary’s measly magic mattered. With a great crack that echoed through the room and sent a shockwave upending every single table and chair, the void spell broke. Mary fell down to a knee a second later. Something tumbled against her shoe again. She looked down at it. It was that ring. She went to pick it up, but that would be when somebody reached her, locked an arm around her middle, and twisted her up and around. Her adrenaline-fueled body thought it was an attack, but as she tried to punch the person, her fist stopped a centimeter before their perfectly angled jaw. She stared up into none other than Vincent’s eyes. He picked her up, her hair tumbling over his perfect white shirt. His gaze flashed with something that wasn’t anger, something Mary wasn’t prepared to see. Something she couldn’t even describe, but something that looked a fraction like awe. “It’s you,” she stammered. “And it’s you.” The way he said that, the way he looked at her… it was like Vincent Flagstaff now had a plan for Mary, one she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. One that only solidified as he leaned down, her in his arms while he somehow picked up that wedding ring. The fight caught up to Mary. Her head rang. She was woozy from having used too much magic. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but open they wouldn’t stay. So she slipped under, right in the arms of the most powerful vampire in the city, and right in the arms of a man who wouldn’t look away.

9

Vincent

It had happened so quickly he hadn’t been able to track it. One second he was sitting in his chair, wondering if he’d ever find a new wife, and the next, Mary fell onto his table out of a crackling void spell. Make no mistake, she hadn’t created the enchantment. She didn’t have that kind of magic. She sure as Hell had broken it, however. Bates had now run into the room. Vincent swung around with Mary’s unconscious form in his arms. Bates looked at her, down to the plastic chair, over to where the void spell had broken, then back to her. “What the Hell just happened?” “Shut the building down,” Vincent demanded. “I think we found our hidden enchantment.” “Void spell? How the Hell was it not picked up by security?” “A strong practitioner cast it. Someone who clearly had a lot of knowledge of this hotel and our particular enchantments,” Vincent hissed, slicing his gaze back to where the void spell had disappeared. He knew who that’d been. He had no evidence, but deep in his heart, he recognized Amy’s magic. His fingers tightened around Mary’s unconscious form. Bates turned and looked down at her again. “Did I get it wrong? I thought she was a—”

“Level I witch, correct.” “But….” Bates turned and pointed at the point where the void spell had broken. “But indeed.” Vincent looked at Mary again. Her throat was bleeding. The enchantment protecting her significant injury had been pulled back. He stood there too long staring at it, then quickly shook his head. He reached the table to his side. He kicked it up with an expert move of his outstretched foot. He placed Mary down. He rechecked her enchantment in case her throat injury had reopened. Then he grabbed up her hand. He held it tightly and closed his eyes. Using his vampire senses, he assessed her condition. If Mary had been involved in a fight with his ex-wife, she should be at death’s door. … She wasn’t at death’s door. She’d used too much magic. She’d ed out because of it. Her injuries weren’t significant. A few cuts on her brow, and her throat wound had almost reopened. But that was it. He opened one eye then the other. He didn’t drop her hand. “Do we need to get a medic in here? How much longer has she got?” Bates asked, his brow compressing with deep worry. Vincent let Mary’s hand go. He placed it against her chest, turned, and stared back at the scene. His eyes were obsessed with the plastic chair for whatever reason. He walked over to it, plucked it up, and checked it with his prying fingers, allowing his magic to scan it for any sign that it was a talisman or some powerful weapon. It was not. It was an old plastic chair with cheap legs and scattered burns marking most of the seat and backrest. “What is it? Some kind of spell?” Bates frowned. “No.” Vincent placed the chair back down and turned around. It was just as the sound of sirens met his ears. Twisting, he looked through the windows out onto the street. Squad cars had just arrived. He saw Hammerstead barrel out of one. He shot into the hotel lobby. He took all of about two seconds to make it to the restaurant. As he powered in, he came to a screeching stop as he saw Mary’s prone form on the table. “What did she do? Is

she alive?” Real fear strained his voice. Vincent didn’t string this along. He nodded. “She’s fine. She,” he slid his gaze over to her again, “simply used too much magic.” “Doing what?” Hammerstead stared at the restaurant. It was trashed. His gaze slid back to Mary. The destruction of the void spell had released too much force, and the ensuing shockwave had ripped through almost every single table and chair. The expensive polished bar on the opposite side of the room was now a smoking heap. As for the enchantments cast on this restaurant, the very same enchantments that shouldn’t have allowed such a magical explosion to occur – they were now nothing more than dust. Hammerstead grabbed his jaw. “What did she do?” He used that same longsuffering tone. “That is yet to be established,” Vincent said. “We need help to track down a rogue sorceress. She used a void spell,” Bates filled in the actual details of the story. All the while, Vincent just frowned as he stared down at Mary. She was rousing. She shouldn’t. When someone used most of their magic, their body had to recuperate. Dip too deeply into your reserves, and it might take months until you were back on your feet. It was the equivalent of bleeding yourself dry. Unless you were in control of the process and you knew how much to give, you could find yourself at death’s door. Mary blinked one eye open. She stared up at Vincent. It was clear she didn’t recognize him. Recognition flooded in a second later, however, when she sneered. “You. Crap.” She tried to jolt up. Vincent wouldn’t let her. Any sudden movements would compromise her already fraught magical system. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged out of it. She rubbed her face, smearing blood into her eyes. Then she dropped her hand when she saw

Hammerstead. She made a face. “What—” “What did you do, Mary?” he growled. She opened her hands wide. “Nothing. I was attacked. I found an enchantment and poked it.” “You poked an enchantment? What were you doing in this hotel? Don’t tell me you were trying to get close to Vincent?” “Why would I want to get close to him? I just poked an enchantment.” “It was a void spell,” Vincent said. He found his voice becoming tender. He said he found it becoming tender because it wasn’t a conscious act. It did so on its own as his gaze once more picked out her significant injuries. While he’d reapplied the bandage to her throat, a few splatters of blood still slid down underneath it. He was aware of the muscles contracting around it, aware of the pain signals. Mary didn’t respond to them. She tried to wriggle off the table. This time Vincent wouldn’t let her. He stood right before her. While she was happy to shrug out of his grip, she wasn’t happy to slide off the table and stand leg to leg, chest to chest with him. She shrank back, sucked in her lips, and glowered at him. “This is revenge for the fact I tresed, is it? Not that I tresed,” she corrected herself whiplash quick. “I just found the back door open.” Hammerstead took an enormous sigh. He rubbed his brow. “You tresed on his property? Is there any depth you will not stoop to, Mary? What do you think your aunt would say—” She flinched. “My aunt would be proud of me. I fought off a sorceress on my own.” “There’s no point in lying. If I were you, everything I’d say from this point on would be measured and calculated. Have you seen how much damage you’ve done?” Hammerstead pointed over his shoulder. Mary’s lips froze. As her eyes widened with fright, she stared at the room. First she looked over at the bar, then down to the tables, then across to the

windows. She picked up the most expensive things first. She winced. It was a full-bodied move that started in her shoulders and brought them up to her ears like she wanted to hide behind them. “Look, she’s in idiot sometimes, but—” Vincent opened his hand. He didn’t look at Hammerstead, gazing at Mary instead. It would be easy to conclude she hadn’t done what she just had – fighting off his ex-wife on her own. That would ignore the evidence. Bates had disappeared from the room. He now ran back in, his cheeks pale. He gestured Vincent over. Still staring at Mary and hoping his eyes told her to stay where she was, Vincent backed off and reached Bates. “What is it?” Bates gripped his jaw. His surprise was so evident, it was as if the word had been carved into his eyeballs. “I went down to the basement. It’s trashed. There was a massive fight there.” “Who was involved?” “I detected her blood,” he gestured toward Mary, “and sorceress blood, too. But it’s already disappeared.” “I see.” Easy to say, but hard to do. What was he looking at? As his gaze darted over Mary, picking up her injuries again as she nonetheless slid off the table, wobbled, but stood, he wondered how she could do that, let alone breathe? Hammerstead picked his way over to her. Though he tried not to do further damage to the room, it was hard considering it had been upended. His large shoes crunched over an expensive chair. Mary jerked down to her feet and shoved him off. “Don’t stand on it. You’ll just damage it more.”

“It is way too late to save this place. If I were you, I’d drop to one knee and beg Vincent not to do anything. You can’t afford to pay for all this damage, Mary.” She winced again. All Vincent heard was dropping down to one knee. It sounded like a remarkably good idea. He plucked his way over to Mary. Then, his eyes still on her, he slipped his hand into his pocket. He played with the ring, twisting it around and around, his short nails sliding over the smooth surface until they got to the diamond. He tapped it twice. Mary raised her hands. “Look, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know that I wasn’t meant to poke the spell,” she babbled. “It just appeared up in the vent above me. I thought it was some kind of animal. By the time I approached, it was too late. It was a void spell. It sucked me all the way through the hotel. As for that sorceress, who knows? She was just angry that I messed with the Rite Gang,” Mary spluttered, gasping through her words. “She seemed to know you, though,” Mary added. “She—” Vincent snapped closed and grabbed her arm. It wasn’t to silence her. Her eyes rolled back, yet she was unaware of how weak she was. Hammerstead hissed. “Look, she’s an idiot, but—” “Take a seat, Mary,” Vincent whispered. “There are no seats. I broke them all.” Bates had already run out of the room. He carried a chair in and put it down. Mary blinked, shrugged, then sat. She rocketed to her feet again. “Actually, I’d rather stand. I didn’t mean to trash your hotel. It’s not really fair to give me the bill. Especially since it was your wife.” She clicked her fingers. “That’s where I recognized the laugh from—” “Detective Hammerstead,” Vincent snapped as he turned. “Please accompany Bates. I’m concerned there are other enchantments in this hotel. I’m afraid we must empty it.” “Mary—” Hammerstead began.

“You have my word. I will be fair to her.” Hammerstead left the room. Slowly but surely, Vincent turned. He still had his fingers around the wedding ring. He drew it out, a glimpse of the gold visible above the line of his pocket. He knew full well the ancestral diamond would be glinting. Most people would slice their eyes down to it, attracted by the magic. Mary just spread her hands again. “Seriously, why are you blaming me? It was your wife, right? I recognized the laugh.” “What do you mean you recognized the laugh? Where have you met her?” “Met her? No. She was in a car near a newsagent. I overheard her on the phone. She was talking about a tournament. She was training… where was it again? The twentieth platform of the subway.” Mary clicked her fingers. Vincent reeled, even though his body remained where he stood. “Twentieth… platform of the subway?” Mary’s nose scrunched up again. “Pretty sure that’s right. Then they mentioned something else about a seal being broken. Why did she fight me? This isn’t some kind of insurance job, is it?” She leaned forward. “No, Mary, this is not some kind of insurance job.” “Then you’re gonna make me pay for all of this,” she whispered. She bit her lip, the sound of the flesh scrunching filling the quiet room. You could’ve dropped an anvil – Hell, you could have dropped a bomb – and Vincent would have still heard that intriguing sound. “I have a different proposition for you,” he let the words slip from his lips. They were surprisingly easy to say. “Proposition?” “Proposal,” he whispered. “You’re not going to make me work for you, are you?” She crunched her arms around her stomach. I might,” she winced, “say that there’s no job too big or too small for me, but we all know I’ve got my limitations.”

He turned. He looked at the destruction. Then he twisted back to her. “Do you?” She looked at him. He withdrew the ring from his pocket further. “Sure I do. Everybody does.” There are few people in this world for whom limitations are meaningless. But they exist, just like a diamond in the rough. And Mary Lou was one of them.

10

Mary

She woke the next morning with a blinding headache. She crunched her fingers over the bridge of her nose. She twisted her head to the side and stared at her pillow. What, what was she looking for? Did she expect someone to be there? Nope, there was just a line of blood. Groaning, she patted her face. She touched her scars, but they’d already mostly healed. She’d clean forgotten about her throat until she stroked her enchantment. The bandage had rucked up during the night. As for her injury, she realized it had gone a fair way to healing anyway. She pushed out of bed. She heard the front door as someone knocked on it, the movement strong and oh so sure of itself. She rubbed her face. Then everything came flooding back in. Not just the fight at the police station, but at the hotel. Mary jammed her thumbnail into her mouth and bit down hard. Then she reached out a hand, crunched it into a fist, and tapped it against the wall several times. “Oh lord, you’re in so much trouble. You smashed up Vincent’s hotel.” He hadn’t said much to her yesterday. He certainly hadn’t given her his bank details and asked for her worldly wealth. After he’d stared at her strangely, playing with that wedding band, he’d been called away. Mary had been attended to by the medics and taken home. Someone had mentioned the police would be in tomorrow. Now it was tomorrow, and now she was certain that beefy knocking on the door was coming from Hammerstead’s massive knuckles.

She raced down the stairs. She was in a threadbare T-shirt and pants, but she didn’t much care. She didn’t have a reputation in this town. There was nothing to hold up. She opened the door way too fast. “In my defense, he’s an arrogant bully,” she said. Except it wasn’t Hammerstead. It was Vincent. Behind him several meters away stood Bates. There was a limousine parked on the side of the street, up on the pavement. This street was so darn cramped, delivery trucks had trouble getting down here, let alone limousines. It was the most expensive car to have ever graced one of the cheapest suburbs in all the city. Mary kept the door open, her jaw so unhinged, it could’ve swung in the wind. “Ah….” “Who is it that is this arrogant bully?” Vincent asked in a smooth tone. He flashed his gaze past her, surreptitiously staring at her crappy house. “You will have my assistance in challenging them if you’d like.” She locked her lips closed. She rubbed her face. “Never mind.” She went to close the door. Bates cleared his throat. So she just closed the door anyway. “Ah, I’m tired. I’m going back to bed.” “I’m here to discuss what happened yesterday,” Vincent said, his voice clear, even through the door. She winced again. “Darn,” she mouthed. She stared over at her kitchen table. Her bag was on it. She didn’t need to trundle over, yank out her wallet, and count long to know how much money she had. She could empty all of her savings, and it wouldn’t pay for even one of the carved, polished tables from that dining room. Let alone all of the damage she’d done to the basement. She’d forgotten about that. All that concrete had been super reinforced. She shuddered to think how many enchantments had been embedded into every centimeter. Even if she sold her house, she wouldn’t even be able to pay for a square meter of it.

She hissed again. She glanced over at the window. If she clambered out of it, she could— She hadn’t locked the door, and apparently this vampire didn’t need an invitation to come in. He opened it. She spun. She opened her hands. “Look, maybe we can come to an arrangement?” “I was thinking something similar.” Why was his tone so unreadable? And where was the arrogant bully from yesterday? She sucked at her lips. She slid her gaze past Vincent to Bates. If she ran, could she get past him? Maybe. But he knew how to use his body. His arms were crossed, but not in a defensive way. An almost charming smile flickered over his lips. Charming with an edge. Not a dangerous one. One that almost looked like awe. “May I come in?” Vincent asked as he walked toward her kitchen table. “I guess,” Mary whispered. She marched up behind him. “Look, if you’re here to sell my stuff to pay for the damage—” He glanced at her chipped kitchen table. “I’m afraid the damage bill is too extensive.” Oh no. She’d hoped he wasn’t here to charge her. But this vampire didn’t have a heart. She sank into her other kitchen chair. She shook. Even yesterday when she’d been fighting that sorceress, she hadn’t shaken like this. Speaking of the sorceress. “Is this some kind of set-up? Your wife—” He opened a hand. “She is not my wife.” “Not so fast. I recognized the voice. She kept saying something about training in

that basement, too. It was her.” “She’s not my wife. We divorced only yesterday.” Mary’s lips hung open. She was derailed. Not for long. She straightened. “Was this some kind of insurance set-up?” “The boss would never do something like that,” Bates said as he reached the front door, stopped, turned, and watched the street. “He’s a good guy.” There were a thousand things Mary could say to that. Rather than speak, she ground her lips closed. Vincent’s eyes flashed. “Mary is not so convinced, Bates.” He leaned across the table to her, the slightest smile on his lips. “All I ask is for a chance to change your mind.” “Change my mind about what? Why are you even here? Wait, this isn’t about the tresing, is it?” “No.” “Then what do you want?” “I have… a proposal,” he said. “Ha?” “There really is no vampire like Vincent in the city. He’s the greatest guy there is,” Bates said. He sounded like he was operating as Vincent’s wingman. Mary shook her head. “Um… just what kind of proposal do you have for me? Some kind of payment scheme?” She scratched her head. “Exactly how much damage was done to the hotel?” “Ignore the damage. That’s irrelevant,” Vincent said, a certain look flickering in his eyes – the kind that concealed itself. Even as Mary leaned forward – as close as she dared – and peered at it, she had

no clue what it meant. Though she was one to keep her nerves in check, now they spurted up through her stomach like she’d stuck a fork into an electrical socket. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He leaned back. “Because as I said, I have a certain proposal for you.” He pushed his hand into his pocket. Mary frowned at him. Before she could spit her questions out, his phone rang. Maybe it was the call tone, or just plain intuition, because he stiffened like a starched collar. He shoved his hand into his pocket bullet-blast quick and yanked it out. He paled even more as he saw the name flashing on the screen. Mary caught just a glimpse from here. There was something about a seal. Bates either reacted to the name or his boss’s reaction. He was already an imposing physical specimen, but now he stood so tall, he could have rivaled a mountain. “Boss?” he mumbled. Vincent brought up a stiff hand, spreading his fingers wide in a stopping motion. He pressed his lips together, composed himself, and slid his thumb over the answer button. Locking the phone against his ear, he answered, “Yes?” in a low tone. Mary could it that the specific tone did things to her. It was the pitch it reached, right? It was designed to shake through stomachs, designed to rush down backs, designed to grip you like a thousand hands. Maybe it was just the fact that she had a Hell of a fight yesterday. Maybe it was more. She found herself riveted to the spot. “We have checked on the seal,” a strong voice said. While Mary could detect that, she couldn’t detect anything else. It had an enchantment on it. You weren’t meant to recognize who was speaking. “I see,” Vincent said. “And?” From the look of him – his stiff fingers to his taut jaw muscles, to the way he angled forward on his seat until he could’ve fallen off it – he wanted to ask another question but didn’t want to with Mary in his presence.

Which was weird. Because she could easily hear what his friend said on the other end of the line. “The seal still functions with little change. Though if you wish to see it for yourself, you are welcome. However, the standard warning applies. The area around the seal is always thin. You may encounter the Devil’s henchmen.” Mary blinked. Without a goodbye, Vincent hung up. “The Devil’s henchmen?” Mary spluttered. She was usually a lot more careful when she eavesdropped on people. But, to be fair, she never eavesdropped on folk as important as Vincent. But there was something offputting about what he’d just discussed. She was also learning she didn’t have a mouth filter in front of him. He turned to say something to Bates, but he snapped his attention over to her like a spring under strain. “What? You picked up what was said?” Mary shrank back in her seat. Her hair scrunched against the chipped wood behind her as she crunched her lip through her teeth. She decided shrugging and being honest was the best path forward here. “Yeah. You didn’t exactly hide it. You could’ve cast an enchantment on your conversation. I assumed because you didn’t that you didn’t mind—” Bates looked at Vincent. Vincent looked at Bates. Both men had crumpled eyebrows, pressed thin lips, and looks that told Mary she’d just made the mistake of her life. Vincent rose. “I must go somewhere. You should come along.” Mary leaned back, the chair legs groaning. “Sorry?” “I have that proposal to discuss with you. I will do so after this matter. And as… you are aware of this matter, I ask for your discretion. I need you to accompany me to ensure that nothing untoward happens.” She scratched her neck. He said a lot of fancy words, but none of them made any sense. “Anything untoward happens? Discretion? What are you talking about?

And that’s the second time someone mentioned some seal.” She leaned forward. It wasn’t because she wanted to get closer to him. Now he’d stood, she was well aware of the fact that he was large, proportioned, and just as magical as any other ancestral vampire she’d ever seen – but with the added extra of being Vincent frigging Flagstaff. She angled closer anyway. She was never one to back down from a fight. “You still haven’t told me why your ex-wife attacked your hotel.” He fixed his tie. He did so with smooth, direct movements of his fingers. There was tension there, but it didn’t match the look in his eyes. The growing glint in his pupils looked ambitious. “I’ll tell you on the way.” He gestured to the door. Mary remained where she was. She looked like a stunned mullet. Didn’t much matter. It was preferable to be a limp fish than to just jump up and do whatever Vincent wanted her to do. She couldn’t forget the last time he’d ordered her around, he’d treated her like the family dog. Bates gestured. “Just this way, ma’am.” “But I have a familiar cat to find today,” Mary said. She was aware she sounded stupid. She didn’t much care. That was her secret weapon, see. Yeah, she was pretty good in a fight. She also had a lot of magical knowledge. But the thing that got her through the hellish streets of Bridgetown was the fact she didn’t much care what people thought. She took every opportunity to remind people she was different. She hunted cats for a living. Vincent here? He probably owned most of the businesses in town. His career was illustrious. His life was magical. In other words, they couldn’t be further apart. But Mary didn’t mind much. She shoved to her feet, pushed the chair in with the toe of her slipper, and shrugged toward the door. “I’m really busy, see – so I can’t come with you today. Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone about your seal.” “I thought you said there was no case too big or too small?” Vincent asked in a strange voice. He got her attention. “Sorry?” “I wish to employ you on a case.” “Is this some kind of trap?”

“I assure you, it isn’t. I am more than happy to draft a vampire contract if you’d like.” He slipped his hand past his lapel into his shirt pocket. He plucked out a cream length of parchment. A feather quill was wrapped up with it. He placed them down on the table reverentially, locking them there with a strong movement of his thumb. It imbued the parchment with magic. Mary had already felt its power before, but now she saw it with her very eyes as each spark crackled up and down the length of the paper, soon forming a seal. It wouldn’t have taken a genius or anyone who’d lived in this town long to recognize it was the Flagstaff family shield. Mary looked at it then up at him. “What?” “You’re very aware, I am sure, that vampires do not go back on their contracts. There’s no reason to be suspicious of me, Mary. All I wish is for a chance to discuss a proposal with you.” “What is this proposal?” He opened his mouth. Bates looked at him and shook his head. “You’ll scare her,” he seemed to mouth. Yeah, yeah, she wasn’t easily fazed, but something about this interaction made her stomach kick. She let her hands slip down, and she crossed her arms around her middle hard as if she was making a girdle for herself. “Ah, what does the contract say?” “I wish for your assistance on a case, that’s all. And it will give us an opportunity to… spend a little more time with each other. Then, when you’re comfortable, we can discuss that proposal.” She frowned at the contract then up at him. The pen twisted around until the tip hovered just a centimeter above the parchment. It was in the position where Mary would have to sign it. Though Mary didn’t have that much to do with vampires, she had signed one of their contracts previously. She knew all about them, too. You could have the most reprobate vampire, the seediest bloodsucking scum, but they would always honor a contract. It was in their blood. Literally. It was one of the most binding

magics of their race. If Mary signed this, and if Vincent did too, then the magic would bind him to the contents of the contract. She looked briefly at her stairs. She could just run up them, head back to bed, and hide under the covers. That would solve nothing. Scrunching her lip through her teeth, she approached the contract like a monster jumping up out of the sewers. Reaching the table, she settled her fingers on it, tapped it nervously, then leaned over. She had no clue what she would see. The contents of the contract were deceptively simple. Mary had to help Vincent track down and expose the culprit from the attack on his hotel yesterday. The contract said culprit, even though they both knew who she was. Mary leaned back, her nose scrunching. “Why do you need my help? You’ve already got my witness report. And why are you saying the culprit?” She was a lot less scared now, so she tapped her finger directly on the contract even though it upset a whole hive of sparks that marched up and down her knuckles. Anyone else would’ve jerked back, but because Mary didn’t have that much magic to begin with, there wasn’t that much in her body to disturb. Bates winced. It looked as if to him, she was shoving her finger into a searing grill. “Yes, we are both well aware that it is my ex-wife. However, until we find proof, it seems premature to place that detail on the contract. But do you agree?” His eyes sparkled a little too much. “Do I agree to what?” “To help me track down the perpetrator of the attack on the hotel? You are personally invested,” he said. He’d been controlling himself for most of the conversation, but now his gaze slipped up to Mary’s neck. You guessed it – she’d forgotten about her injury. It had slipped into the background – easy considering a dashing vampire had taken up most of her

morning just as effectively as an enormous truck stopping in a parking space allotted for a pushbike. Mary looked down at the contract again. “Exactly what is my monetary reward going to be?” “If you successfully fulfill the of this contract, you can have any reward you like. Diamonds, cars, houses, clothes – whatever you want,” Vincent said as he slipped his hand into his pocket and tapped something. There was a ringing sound. It was as if his short nails drummed something hard but smooth, maybe the surface of a polished stone. She scratched her head. “I don’t usually work on open-termed contracts like that. You could change your mind at any point.” “Very well, what do you think would be a fair price?” She scrunched her lips as she stared to the side. It wasn’t hard to draw up the memories of her fight from yesterday. Blink her eyes closed for too long, and the feeling of the sorceress’s hands wrapping around her collar came back all too sharply. “I’m afraid we don’t have all day,” Vincent cautioned. He slipped his other hand into his pocket and tapped his phone. He might try to hide it, and his eyes might glitter at the appearance of this contract, but he needed to check on this seal for whatever reason, and he had to do so now. Mary sighed. “Assuming this is not gonna take that long, considering we already know the culprit, I don’t know… 500 bucks?” It was a little ambitious. She didn’t charge that much for a day’s work. Heck, she didn’t charge that much for a week’s work. She lived meagerly. She didn’t have to pay rent on a house – this place had been given to her in her aunt’s will. She rarely took people for a ride, but this was one of the richest vampires in the city. She attempted to keep a good poker face, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye. Bates laughed. “Is that it?” “I guess… it’s probably a little unfair. So let’s say 450.” She yanked up a hand

and put four fingers in the air. “If that’s what you wish to write on the contract, that is what we will write on the contract. I assure you, there will be an appropriate bonus.” Wasting no more time, Vincent leaned forward, plucked up the pen in a strong grip, and signed. There was majesty in the move. The way the pen scribbled across the page, the way the nib glided like a bird – Mary could stare at Vincent g things for the rest of her life. When it was done, however, her stomach sank. She had just agreed to this, whatever it was. She looked at Bates and Vincent again. Her common sense told her they both had an ulterior motive. … But her much more important intuition told her that whatever it was, it couldn’t be too dangerous. Mary was a woman of her word. She plucked up the pen. With one last mulekick of nerves reverberating through her gut, she signed it. Magic slid through the pan and into the contract. It didn’t require any of her own force thankfully, and it sanctified itself. As every spark scattered over the page, the whole contract lifted up several centimeters. It danced in the air, twisted this way and that, then shot towards Vincent’s jacket. It rolled itself up with the sound of a Roman blind being yanked on too hard. Then it nestled itself into his pocket. Soon the fabric sat flat once more. Vincent pulled out his lapels and tugged them down in a powerful move. He nodded once and spread a hand toward the door. Mary stared at it then took a step toward it with a shrug. Bates pointed to the stairs. “We probably have time for you to throw on a jacket or something.” Mary looked down at her clothes. She’d kinda forgotten the fact she was still in her pajamas. She was not the kind to blush, dance from foot to foot, and look for somewhere to hide. She shrugged. She walked up the stairs. She felt Vincent’s eyes on her

the entire time. She stopped on the top of the landing, her fingers clutching around the old, chipped banister. She turned, and Vincent still stared at her, stared at her like this was the first step to something much, much bigger. So what do you do when you take the first step? You take another. Mary strode off toward her room, grabbed some sensible clothes, changed, and got ready for another day’s work.

11

Vincent

He waited beside the car, Bates closer to the front door. “She’s not climbing out the window, is she?” Vincent demanded. “Nope. She’s just getting changed. She’ll be down in a second if I’m any judge.” Bates turned to him. He said everything in his eyes, his darting, awestruck eyes. “How the heck did she hear your conversation, sir? Even I couldn’t pick it up.” Vincent leaned back against the limousine, the smooth polished surface slipping against his Cashmere jacket. He had one leg crossed over the other, his expensive calf leather loafers shimmering under the early morning sunshine. As he angled his head up and stared at the length and breadth of the house, his gaze easily darted toward Mary’s room. He wasn’t spying on her. The room was on the opposite side of the house. He was just aware of her presence. It was the same as being aware of a diamond if you’d plucked it out and placed it down in a bed of pebbles. “Sir?” Bates prompted. Vincent pushed up off the car. “The fact that she could easily hear through my enchantment is irrelevant. The fact she almost defeated Amy, on the other hand….” Why add anything? Mary’s actions spoke for themselves. And they were one of the greatest curiosities Vincent had come across in a long time. Once, he’d lived for such intrigues. But once, he’d had a family, friends, and a power structure to him. Now he had Bates and a handful of other loyal employees – and a city that he must protect at any costs. Bates was comfortable that Mary would no longer do a runner. Shoving his large

hands into his pockets, he scrambled down the stairs, staring over his shoulder the whole way. He pursed his lips and whistled. “I’ve never seen someone who’s so powerful yet only a level I witch. Doesn’t make a great deal of sense, does it? You ever seen anything like this?” Vincent didn’t reply. He needed more information. That’s why he hadn’t proposed to Mary yet. He wanted to see what she could do. Preferably, he wanted to see her fight right in front of him, but the thought also brought niggling pain to his stomach, this minor coil of fright. He chased it away. He knew Mary now walked down the stairs. Bates grabbed open the enger door for her in preparation. Vincent backed off. He obsessively checked his breast pocket. The contract was still there. Even if someone had come and stolen it, it would be irrelevant. It had now been sanctified by his vampire magic. The physical manifestation of it was nowhere near as important as the connection it had made to his soul. He would be bound to it, and so would Mary. He slid his other hand into his pocket, playing with the ring once more. He’d been wearing it smooth over the past 24 hours as he’d patted it compulsively. If the intuition prickling up his back and sparking into his heart was anything to go by, she might be the one thing he needed most. “Seriously though, sir,” Bates moved in close, lowering his voice now, considering Mary had an unrivaled ability to overhear people’s conversations, “what exactly do you think she is?” Vincent’s eyes locked on the door as it opened. Out walked Mary. She wasn’t wearing anything special. She was in similar clothes to that which she’d worn yesterday, though these were thankfully free of massive burn marks, rips, and blood splatters. “It’s a curiosity,” Vincent answered. He walked around to his own door, got in, and waited. Mary paused at the door, staring down at it, Bates holding it open for her. Her nose scrunched. She did that a lot. You’d think, considering it was a move he’d already seen multiple times, Vincent wouldn’t twist his head all the way around

and watch it now, watch the way her lips tugged down, watch the way it sent wrinkles darting up over her brow and into her plump cheeks. “Just hop inside, Miss,” Bates encouraged. “Will I regret this?” Mary asked Bates. She was someone who spoke her mind, clearly. Vincent had already done his seatbelt up. He turned to stare at her. “You signed a contract.” Even from here, he could tell that her stomach clenched. “And I assure you I will hold up my end of the bargain,” he clarified. “Okay,” she muttered. She slid into the seat. Her jeans scrunched against the polished leather. Bates closed the door with a light chuckle. He jumped into the driver’s seat, clicked his fingers, and started the ignition. Mary was overly interested in staring at the car – from the ing to the leather to the footwell. She never once let her gaze dart over to him. Vincent, on the other hand, openly watched her. Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore. She jerked her gaze up to meet his. It almost felt like he was a ball and her eyes were a bat. Usually someone could meet his stare without him flinching. Now, though he didn’t wince, he straightened somewhat. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” She shoved a finger into her ear and waggled it. “Not really. I’m assuming we're off to investigate your wife. How long will this take? About a day? I can give you a day. Though I do have a cat to find.” She crossed her arms and leaned back. Bates chuckled awkwardly from the front seat. “Do you really have a cat to find? Surely with your skills—” Vincent cleared his throat.

He watched Mary the entire time. She stiffened on the term her skills. It wasn’t defensive. It was self-conscious, if anything. Vincent was well aware of Mary’s aunt. Who in Bridgetown was not? She was a legend, easily the most powerful sorceress to ever have ed through the city’s gates. And her orphanage had created some of the strongest warriors in law enforcement. Vincent knew several of them. Bates had worked with one or two when he’d done a stint in the army. Having an aunt like that would make anyone self-conscious. Especially if they were only a level I witch. But there was far more to Mary’s mystery. Vincent leaned back against the plush headrest, surreptitiously slipping a hand down into his shirt pocket. The contract weighed nothing, but he was aware of it as if it was a giant statue. If everything worked out, by Friday, he might have an edge. Mary got distracted staring out of the window. That distraction ended quickly. She turned around, straining against her seatbelt. “This is the bit where you tell me all about your ex-wife. How come she’s your ex-wife, anyway? I saw a photo of you two in the paper recently. I thought you two adored one another? What’s with this training area in the subway? And what about the seal?” When she asked her questions, she did so with no breaths in between them like the vocal equivalent of a paint gun. “I only—” “If you’re about to tell me that you will only answer some of those questions, I don’t think so. We have a contract.” She pointed at his chest, a little too close, as if she intended to tap the contract against his pecs. “And though it wasn’t explicitly stated, in order to investigate this, I need to know what I’m dealing with. Your ex-wife is kind of dangerous, anyway,” she muttered as she scratched her cheek. Her fingers soon slipped down, and she played with the edge of her bandage. It was all rucked up. She only disturbed it further with her prying fingers. “Stop that,” Vincent said a little too harshly.

She jumped, surprised at his tone, then narrowed her gaze. “Wait, you’re going to turn into a bully again, aren’t you? If you are, then I’m just going to jump out of this car and fulfill my side of the contract on my own. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you treated me at the hotel yesterday.” He opened his hand wide in surrender but kept his sharp gaze locked on her bandage. “Do you know no pain, Mary?” “Excuse me?” “Have you forgotten that your throat was almost slit yesterday? You keep playing with that bandage. You recognize it is preventing you from having further injuries, do you not?” He hesitated, then went with the feeling gathering in his gut. Pushing forward, he grabbed the ends of the bandage and fixed them down with a few charges of magic. She let him, head inclined to the side, one lip puckered. “You know this isn’t the first significant injury I’ve had, right?” “Do you receive many cut throats when searching for the neighbor’s cat?” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. She twitched an eyebrow up. “Mary Lou Detective Agency – no case too big or small,” she said with the automaticity of somebody who’d repeated that line for years. Then she crossed her arms. “I might not look like it, but I have taken on some pretty bad stuff over the years.” He could go for another joke. Instead he focused on the way his back lengthened, to the nerves igniting deep in his stomach. “What exactly have you taken on?” Interest flared in his tone. He tried to control it, but he didn’t know how to hold himself around Mary. He’d already concluded it was a bad idea to drop to one knee, pluck the ring out, and ask her to sign a marriage contract with him so she could fight in a tournament to protect the city. If he did that, she’d likely climb out the window. He had to take things slowly. His curiosity didn’t want slow. It wanted answers, and as his gaze slid up and down her, it was as if he expected they’d be written on her flesh. If she noticed his darting gaze, she didn’t let on. Her jaw only hardened. “I know you think I’m some pathetic level I witch,” her teeth clenched around the last bit,

“but I live in this city too.” Distracted, she stared out the window. She unhooked her arms from her middle, reached out, settled one hand on her armrest, and tapped her nails hard as she inclined her neck back and watched the city. Her silence led to a poignant moment for Vincent. All he could was the bright days of his youth. Bridgetown had been different then. Energetic, expansive, and a place of hopes and dreams. Now? It was a city that was right on the edge of Hell itself. And every day, it slipped further into the Devil’s burning embrace. “I’ve gotta it, I’ve never taken on anything exactly like your ex-wife, but I have been unlucky over the years.” She tapped her throat bandage again but fortunately didn’t pry at the edges. “What are you talking about?” His back stiffened, the long muscles along his spine contracting until he sat a few centimeters away from the backrest. She shrugged. “I’m pretty unlucky. Once, I was trying to find a lost dog in the cemetery, and I came across a skeleton guard,” she laughed through her words like this was the funniest joke she’d ever heard. Bates was listening, though he was discreet about it. He spluttered. “What?” “I called the police, and they took it in in the end, but for a while there, I was running around with it on my own.” Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “You went toe to toe with a skeleton guard? Was it fully formed?” She scratched her neck. He expected her not to know what he meant. She nodded. “Yep. Fully formed. I have no clue to this day what it was doing in the graveyard. Just know that it gave me a heckuva run-around.” “I see,” Vincent said, ensuring his tone was quiet so it gave no emotional cues away at all. You could strap him up to a lie detector, but he was using enough vampire strength and magic to control his every reaction. “What else have you been unlucky to face over the years?” Mary picked at her nails. “Elephant spirit,” she said with a laugh. This one was a lot throatier. She also grabbed her elbow and rubbed it.

“Sorry, did you just say elephant spirit?” Bates couldn’t control his tone. “Yeah. I came across it, or it came across me. Kind of hard to say. I was tracking down a petty thief in one of the boutiques downtown. I disturbed it in the dumpster around the back. I think some stupid warlock kid had cast it or something. I never found the summoning spell, though.” Vincent was sufficiently attuned to Bates to know that he slid his gaze to the rear vision mirror. Vincent looked up and met Bates’s stare. There were several things wrong with that statement. First, warlock kids would not have the proficiency, power, nor money to summon an elephant spirit. Second, her attitude was all wrong. “What happened, Mary?” Bates asked. Though he’d been letting his awe show, now he reeled it in. Mary became defensive when her magic was mentioned. But right now, Vincent was learning more than he would by any other means. “It took me on a run-around for a while. We went to the park. Fortunately the police were there dealing with something. Hammerstead too,” she said through a wince. “He accused me of summoning it to begin with. Until he learned who I was,” she laughed. “How long did you go toe to toe with an elephant spirit for?” Bates asked. She shrugged. “About half an hour? It had me pinned in the laneway for a while.” She wouldn’t look at them. She stared out of the window. “I see,” Vincent said. He kept repeating that as if that was the only phrase he knew anymore. But every single time it slipped out of his stiff lips, he was confident that he saw less and less. Level I witches could not take on elephant spirits. They certainly could not survive skeleton guards. And he didn’t need to point out yet again that there was no way they could take on his ex-wife. Yet here Mary was, living proof of everything she’d just said. She could be lying, but last night proved that was unlikely. Plus, if Vincent wanted to, he could call up Hammerstead, his good friend, and check.

“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever fought?” Bates asked. He was doing a good job of questioning her. She was more receptive to him. It meant Vincent could just kick back and watch her – with his every sense. As he’d already mentioned, it was easy for a vampire to assess when someone was lying. Considerable vascular changes occurred. Especially in the brain. Vincent was a sufficiently powerful ancestral vampire to note those, even from this distance. Which meant it was unlikely she was making any of this up. And that… what did that mean? Vincent still couldn’t even answer that. He needed more information to understand what he was dealing with here. At the prospect of finding it, his heart oddly skipped a beat. Mary slid a hand down her throat. She reached the enchantment and tapped it twice. Vincent stiffened, but he didn’t lean close and yank her hand back. When she disturbed it, he would. For now he settled his attention on her and just watched. “The elephant spirit was pretty bad. Guess it wasn’t the scariest thing I’ve faced, though.” She picked at her fingers. “What was it, then? For me, I once fought off a horde of demon ghosts,” Bates supplied. “Demon ghosts? Yeah, I think I’ve fought one of those before. Hard to say, though. Happened at night. Disappeared quickly, too.” Vincent had already been stiff. Now he felt as every single one of his muscles contracted to the point of snapping. It started in his feet, rose like a wave into his knees, then hit his stomach. Once it was there, it sparked like wildfire. His whole body became so rigid, you could’ve built a house on top of him. It took an age to move even one lip, let alone the other. “A ghost demon?” She shrugged. “Like I said – it’s kinda hard to say. It was a couple of years ago, not too long after my aunt’s death,” she said, measurable sadness marking her tone.

“Where did it happen?” Bates’s tone had changed. He was no longer obviously engaging in a friendly conversation. As Vincent had already pointed out, before he’d come to work for the Flagstaff family, he’d been in the army. He’d been in a unit that tracked down the deadliest magical creatures out there and kept them away from people. “Wasn’t too far away from my aunt’s crypt, actually. It was at the cemetery. The big one on the hill.” “Grimm’s Cemetery,” Vincent supplied. She clicked her fingers. “I always forget its name for whatever reason.” “Go back to the story,” Bates said, all joviality lost from his tone. He sounded like a hardened detective investigating an important case. He may no longer work for the army tracking down devilish fiends, but he worked for Vincent doing the same job instead. And one could argue that under Vincent’s employment, the task was only more important. Mary picked up on Bates’s tone. She straightened, the fabric of her jacket scrunching against the smooth leather behind her. “This was years ago.” She waved a hand at her face. “I wasn’t even sure if it was a ghost demon, anyway. That said, it had all of the ethereal markings of one.” Bringing up a hand, she ticked things off on her fingers. “It gathered power when it moved through gravestones. It had a scent like rotting flesh mixed with cloves, and when it touched me, I momentarily lost the use of part of my body. It felt like being plunged into ice fire. Weird image, I know.” Vincent stared at the rear vision mirror just as Bates swiveled his gaze to it. Bates’s eyes were wide, the pupils rimmed with sheer surprise. Vincent turned all the way around to face her. He hadn’t been ignoring her, but now as he strained against his seatbelt, his gaze ticked up and down, up and down. It was even more penetrating than before. He needed to know if this was a joke. “You were touched by a ghost demon, and you survived? Just exactly how powerful are you?” Dammit. A mistake. He shouldn’t have mentioned her level of power. She’d been chatting to them freely, but now she turned hard toward the window.

“Yeah, okay. I’m only a level I witch. And thanks to you, most of the police station now knows that, too. They always knew I was underpowered,” she crammed her fingers into her collar and pulled it out with a thwack, “but now they know exactly how underpowered I am. Guess I have to put up with even more jokes the next time I drag in a bounty.” Bates still reeled from what he’d learned, but he was a good enough tactician to know that unless he pulled his socks up, they were going to lose this battle. And trust Vincent, it was a battle. Questioning Mary required strategy, not directness. Bates soon cleared his throat. “Nothing to do with your level of power, ma’am. Just impressed, that’s all. It took an entire tactical team to take down an army of ghost demons. That said, I say an army – there were only three of them. That’s what anything above three is called, though.” Mary looked intrigued. Then an odd tension climbed up her neck. “I guess mine wasn’t a ghost demon, then. I know I don’t have the power to take one on.” She yanked up her nails again and started pushing the cuticles down. Vincent could hear the scrunch of the skin filling up the now quiet limousine. He’d had a thousand questions before. Now he had a million. They all lined up in his head, clamoring to get out. “We’re almost there,” Bates mumbled. He watched Vincent through the rear vision mirror again. It was fortunate to have Bates in the car listening to this. If Vincent hadn’t had another witness, he would doubt everything he’d learned. Level I witches could not take on ghost demons. It was an impossible feat, even for most warlocks. Even Amy would have trouble. But here Mary was, claiming to have done the same thing, and if Vincent was good at reading people, she wasn’t lying. Though Vincent longed to continue to question her and wondered if he’d ever get her as receptive as she was now, they came to a stop. He didn’t need to swivel his head to the side to see where they were. The oppressive feeling gathered like heavy rain all around him. Mary strained against her seatbelt. “Is this where the seal is? Whatever the seal

is, of course.” She placed a hand up on the glass. It left a few smeary fingerprints. It did not, however, leave any magical residue. There were very strong enchantments cast on this car – the kind that cost more than most family sedans and the kind that could prevent it from being penetrated by almost all magical attacks, save for the strongest. Usually, said enchantments interacted with anybody’s magic, except for Vincent’s and Bates’s. They did nothing to Mary, for she had precious little magic to interact with in the first place. What started off as a curiosity yesterday and had grown into intrigue today, now morphed and became something so much larger, it couldn’t even fit in Vincent’s head. It could have been enough to keep him in this car, staring at her, but his duty soon won. He undid his seatbelt, clasped the door handle, and opened it. As the hinges creaked, Mary turned to him. “Do I get to come?” She undid her seatbelt and leaped out of the car. He walked around to her and shook his head. Cramming his hands into his pockets, he did not turn and stare at the squat building behind him. Though it begged him to. It already had its hooks into him. He could even hear it whispering in his ear. They weren’t distinct words. Every time his mind tried to clutch hold of them, they became even more indistinct. They were there to unsettle him. That was Hell’s never-ending goal. “Stay here with Bates. This will be quick.” “Does this have something to do with your ex-wife? Didn’t you contract me to help you establish her guilt? I should come.” Mary pushed past Vincent, angling toward the squat building behind him. Though it felt like sticking his hand in a fire, he twisted. He faced it. He hated doing so. Every time he came here, he always kept his gaze on the ground and never on that old sandstone façade. It was a simple building, not in the middle of town, but on the outskirts. It was in the opposite direction of the cemetery, in fact. If you drew a line right through

the heart of Bridgetown, you’d be able to connect them up. And that was no mistake. “It’s kind of pretty,” Mary said as she inclined her head to the side. She sniffed once. “Full of dark magic, though. Is that where the seal is?” She pointed at it. She strode closer. Even Bates wouldn’t do that. He knew his limitations, despite his considerable training and magic. He never got closer than he was now. He might have gotten out of the car, but he pushed right up against the driver’s side as if he wanted to melt his body with the glass. “Be careful,” Vincent tried. He grabbed her hand and went to pull her back, but she yanked on his fingers, turned smoothly, her hair whipping in the wind, and frowned at him. “I told you, if you want me to investigate your wife—” “Ex-wife,” he corrected so fast, he didn’t have to think about it. His body had supplied those words like a reflex. “Yeah, whatever, your ex-wife. But if you want me to investigate her, shouldn’t I come in and check out this seal with you?” “Don’t you feel the magic in there?” he asked, voice dropping just as his gaze did. It searched her, from foot to face, looking for any sign that she was just putting on a show of bravado. She was not. She’d already itted that she could feel the magic, but either it was because of her low level of force or something else – it didn’t put her off. Didn’t cause the same fear that coiled around his stomach, that paled Bates’s cheeks, and that would affect any ordinary person who dared stray too close to a Devil seal. He stood there for far too long, holding onto her until she looked down at his hand. He let go of his fingers. As his arm swung by his side, he shook his head again. “I’m not checking up on my ex-wife here. This is… other business. Stay with Bates. I will only be five minutes or so.” He pushed away from her.

She rocked back and forth on her feet, taking a few steps toward him before shrugging her shoulders. “I wouldn’t get too close to that building if I were you,” Bates warned, waving her over with frantic pats of his hand. “Why not?” Vincent didn’t turn, but he could hear her nose scrunching up. He almost stopped on the threshold of the door but reached forward. His fingers settled on the old brass door handle, and as soon as his palm locked against the smooth, dented metal, he could hear the Devil’s siren song. It leaped up through the air, shuddered into his body, and slipped into his bloodstream. As it coursed through his heart, everything became cold, dim, and dark. Such was the power of a Devil seal. With a creak, the door opened. “Don’t take all day,” Mary called out after him. “We’ve got a case to solve.” Her light voice cut right through that dimness. It sounded louder than anything he’d ever heard, clearer, too. He paused, then pushed down into the dark.

12

Vincent

He reached a set of steps. There wasn’t a light on. And he would not face illumination again until he made it out into the sunshine. Such was the process of walking down into the valley of the damned. Perhaps it was rich to call this the valley of the damned, for that was the very first region of Hell. This was as close as he ever wanted to get to such a fell place. His footfall rang out, dull like a heartbeat someone was attempting to stifle. He knew the steps from feeling alone. Even if he used as much magic as he could muster, he wouldn’t cut through the darkness. It swirled before him, coiling around his body, climbing up his face and sinking against his eyes like a broad palm. As it did, he heard things in the dark. Hisses, whispers, moans. Each one of them led the ear and the imagination too. Though he knew the routine, he couldn’t control his fear. It prickled up his back, bit into his jaw, and made him clench his teeth like an industrial vice. It took a full minute before he reached the last step. Hesitating, his foot in the air, he placed it down with a shuddering breath. He did not stand on stone. He stood in blood. Even if he hadn’t been a vampire, any magical creature would’ve been able to detect the origin of the slippery substance pooling beneath his feet. Magic pumped through it, sparking without being seen. It tickled up his shoes, into his ankles, and through his legs. It soon reached his bloodstream and darted around like a pinball. If he hadn’t been as composed a vampire as he was, he might’ve plunged down, wrenched his mouth open, and started lapping it up like a dehydrated dog to water. He controlled himself. He always had and always would. He heard a laugh – the only voice distinct amongst the forever whispers and dark

moans. It rang out right by his ear. She wasn’t beside him yet. She’d come, though. He could feel her growing presence slipping through the room like a vine sliding across a jungle floor. He made it through the valley of blood. He reached another set of steps that descended. This one… this one felt like walking across skin. His shoes crunched against it, and as he slipped at one point and placed his hand on the wall beside him, it was like touching a corpse. Shuddering, he receded back, regained his balance, and marched down the stairs. He reached the base of them. There was flickering light in this room. It wasn’t static and rather appeared in one section only to reappear in another. It was accompanied by sparkling red symbols. They darted through the air, only visible for a fraction of a second before they disappeared. He recognized a few of them. The symbols of the Devil himself, they indicated how well the seal was functioning. Vincent walked into the room. He couldn’t hear his footfall. All he could hear was his breath. It was as if somebody had recorded the sounds from this scene and tuned out everything else but his raspy inhalations. He stopped in the middle of the room. He lifted a hand, undid his cufflink, then rolled up his sleeve. He sliced one jagged nail down his arm, letting a long line of blood slither down his skin. He held it in the air for a few seconds before jerking it around. Drops splattered onto the floor. His blood wasn’t just imbued with magic. It also had the natural force of a vampire. The seal reacted to it. The whole room became visible in a rush. It was massive, much larger than it should be. It was circular, deep channels carved into the floor. At first they looked as if they had a chaotic, almost organic pattern. The more you watched, the more you realized the pattern resembled the neurons in a human brain. They pulsed with magic. Especially as he offered more of his blood. As the room became visible, so too did that darting magic. He saw the symbols, brighter than ever. He hissed. When he’d received a call from the council at Mary’s kitchen table, they’d said

the seal was fine. It was not fine. It was weaker than the last time he’d checked. Not measurably so, but enough that alarm spiked through his heart. That laughing he’d heard from earlier? It caught up with him. He felt a hand clasping the side of his face and slipping over his smooth skin. It reached his throat. Then someone pulled close. A warm hiss sliced past his cheek. “So nice of you to offer your blood for us, Vincent. Have you come to check on the seal, or is it just me you want?” the voice purred. Vincent stiffened. He stared dead ahead. “Now, now. That’s no way to treat me, is it? Don’t you know I’m by far the most beautiful creature in all of Hell? I could be all yours, Vincent, if only you give up your control of the seal. The Devil still has a deal for you. He will treat you as you deserve.” “I will make no deal with the Devil. I am not here for that. I’m here to check on the integrity of the seal.” She laughed. “Of course you are.” She scrunched in closer. Vincent could feel her body. Sorry, he could feel what her demonic body wanted him to feel, her round, large bust pressing into his back, her smooth skin, her tumbling, silken hair. But it was nothing more than an apparition. Her demonic force always pulsed underneath, this dark undercurrent that could not be forgotten. She laughed again. He didn’t stare at her once, even as her fingers dragged along the side of his face and slid down to his throat once more. She tapped it twice. “You say you’re here to check on the seal. What’s the point? Come Friday,” she whispered, “your role in this city will be over. You have no one to fight for you in the arena, my dear Vincent. Which means you will have to fight for yourself.” The grip tightened around his throat. He made no movement. He stood where he was, his back rigid, his face angled forward, his eyes always staring at the far wall. “Come Friday,” she moved closer behind him, her demonic body now pressed up against his, nothing left for his imagination, “I will meet you in the ring. The Devil has already agreed that you will be mine afterward. Don’t worry. I’ll treat

you well,” she laughed in his ear. “I will have someone to fight for me in the ring on Friday,” Vincent said automatically, with no emotion in his tone – neither victory nor fear. He controlled himself like he never had before. “There’s no one left in this city who can fight for you and win. The other of the council are no longer as dedicated to keeping the peace as you are. You’re a dying breed, Vincent. So why don’t you hurry up and die?” Her grasp tightened around his throat. The warning pulse of adrenaline that blasted through him begged him to stare down at her hand, to grab it up and thrust her back. Do that, however, and it would only make her solid. This was nothing more than a nightmare. If he kept his eyes open and stared at something else, it would go away. “Even if you have found someone to fight for you in the ring, it won’t take long until they abandon you. Forces are aligning against you. Eventually, you will have to fight in the ring yourself. And when you do, I will be your opposition, my dear Vincent. Then your side of the seal will break, and Bridgetown will fall to the Devil.” “You’re jumping ahead of yourself,” he said. “Why not call me by my name? Can’t you even say it?” “You’re jumping ahead of yourself,” he repeated, not using her name, never using her name. “Is that how you should talk to your ex-wife? Have you forgotten what I’m called? Now, let me remind you.” She pushed forward, her lips locking against his ear. “Mary. Mary Flagstaff. Is that so hard to say? Let me help you.” She slipped a hand around the side of his face, grabbed his mouth, and opened it. He paid no attention to the feeling of her hands sliding over his cheek. He stared dead ahead, never deviating his gaze once. He made sure his every movement was mechanical. He did not give in to his fear, couldn’t bear to, even as she made his lips move once more.

“You are not my ex-wife,” Vincent assured her. “But we were married, were we not? You relied on me, did you not?” “You were always a trap. I have no feelings for you. And you should have no feelings for me.” “Ah, but you cannot tell a heart what to do, can you?” She tightened her grip around his shoulders once more. “It will do anything to get what it wants. And so will I.” She hissed hard in his ear as she snagged hold of his throat with straining knuckles. His panic rose, telling him he was being strangled. It took every single gram of will to override it. He even closed his eyes. So she just hissed sharper in his ear, sounding like a blade slicing past his face. “I’ll see you in the ring one of these days, my love. Then I’ll drag you back down to Hell where you belong.” Vincent broke away. Though it was more accurate to say that as he controlled his mind and gave her less attention, she stopped being able to manifest. He turned. He kept his eyes closed, and he navigated by feeling alone until he reached the stairs. As he stepped onto the first one, he knew that all the light emptied out of this room once more. He controlled the urge to run. The seal was checked – his duty fulfilled. But he couldn’t chase Mary’s words from his head. They kept replaying, reverberating in his skull, accompanied by the touch of her fingers across his throat. One day he’d meet her in the ring. And when he did, he would lose. For there was no way he could take on a demoness.

13

Mary

She leaned against the car. It had only been three minutes, but that was too long. She kept jerking her gaze over to Bates. He wouldn’t even look at the squat building in front of them. He wasn’t distracting himself with his phone – just staring at the ground. She tried to draw him into a conversation, but he seemed too edgy. He’d been pretty interested in questioning her when they’d been driving over here. Now he was a different man. Her boredom soon got to her. She always had itchy feet at the best of times. She pushed off the car. Bates snapped his head up as fast as a branch rebounding from snow. “You can’t go in there. The boss will be done soon.” She opened her hands. “I’m not going into the building. I’m just going for a walk.” “Stick by the car.” “I’m—” His phone rang. It was back in the car. He reached for it. He went to ignore it but hissed. “Gotta take this.” He answered it. Mary wasn’t drawn in by the conversation. It sounded like something complex to do with the deployment of security charms for the hotel. She didn’t want to listen for two reasons. It wasn’t particularly interesting, and she might find out how much damage she’d done to the hotel. That would only emotionally indebt her to Vincent even further. Bates had to sit down, grab something out of the glove compartment, and work

on a magical parchment that kept updating with new numbers. Mary watched him for a bit. Then she turned back to that building. Why was everyone so scared of it? Yep, it had dark energy. So too did a lot of places around Bridgetown. Hell, she swore energy voids like that popped up like daisies after the rain. This city had become darker with every ing day for the past 4 years or so. Probably more than that, though Mary swore the biggest change had occurred around then. She soon got distracted. She walked a couple of feet away from the car, and when Bates didn’t pull her back, walked away a little further. She shoved her hands into her pockets and stared at the trees lining the opposite side of the road, and she was pulled into her own little world. Pretty easy to do, considering how crazy the last couple of days had been. She got closer to the trees. Something in her stomach kicked. She looked right up into the one above her, and her jaw unhinged. Staring at her was a cat. The very same cat she had to find today. Yanking her hand out of her pocket, she pointed at it. “You. Come back here.” The cat twitched its whiskers, jumped down the tree, and raced away. “I’m a friend, honest,” she garbled. “I’m just here to take you back to your master.” The cat in question was a familiar for a witch. It was still undergoing its training, still transforming from an ordinary house cat into a witch friend, and according to Mary’s client, the cat had reverted to its natural senses. It had run away at the most critical point of its transformation. It needed to go back to its master so the spell could run its course. If it didn’t, it would always be a confused halfintelligent, partial-magical feline. And that would just make it a ready snack for the dark forces of Bridgetown. Mary ran right around the block before she even realized what she was doing. Bates either didn’t notice, or he had no clue which direction she’d run in. She paused for a moment, ing just how critical it seemed that she stick with the car. Then she shrugged. She could look after herself. She’d come back

in good time. Plus, she had a phone on her. She didn’t fill in the rest of that equation, that neither Bates nor Vincent knew her number. She just took it as an excuse to lope after the cat. “I work for your master. Please, don’t run from me. You’re probably hungry. You want somewhere to sleep, right? I imagine you’re really itchy from all that magic. I can help,” she called. She ed several pedestrians. Nobody knew what she was talking about. They gave her a wide berth. Mary was pretty used to that. She ran around the block. She only ever caught glimpses of the cat. She had pretty good cardio fitness. It came with the job. Yeah, so some of the other magical PIs might have better fitness, because they ran down shifters, but house cats were still pretty athletic. She came to a skidding stop behind a building. Activating her tracking senses, she realized the cat had slipped down beside it. Changing direction, she shoved down the side of the building, too. There was only a small gap. She had to twist all the way around and shimmy. As her pants scrunched up against the old bricks, it left lines of muck down the blue denim. She made a face at it. Great. She went through clothes so fast, her paycheck only just kept up. That led to a thought – a weird one that darted through her consciousness then slipped away, likely knowing how much it would anger her. And the thought was what, exactly? She didn’t need to worry about clothes. Because Vincent had promised her that he would give her any reward she saw fit. “Just a lie. It was a negotiating tactic,” she assured herself. She squeezed past the last brick and sprinted into a strange yard shared by two buildings. She saw the cat, right there in the middle of the old dirt. Nothing was

growing. There was an old dead bed of grass, and beside it a weathered tree, only two leaves left on it. A sudden wind rushed past it, and it grabbed both leaves. They tumbled down onto the grass. Rather than just sit there, they withered further. She’d taken a step toward the cat, but she froze. The cat’s hackles rose. As its tail puffed until it looked like a feather duster, she reached it. It hissed at the tree. Mary leaned down and grabbed it up. It latched its claws into her shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m gonna take you back to your mistress. Don’t you worry —” The tree creaked. It was ominous. Mary might seem oblivious, but she had great magical senses, and now they went wild. The rotting leaves had been surprising, but not unusual. She’d pointed out what felt like 100 times that Bridgetown was a dark place. There were also areas of void energy – devilish recesses of old, twisted magic that, if they were given a reason, would mess with anything around them like a living nightmare. She backed off with the cat in her arms. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” She turned. Another rush of wind shot past, accompanied by more rustling. She inched her head over her shoulder and stared at the tree. Those two leaves were back on it. As the wind rushed past, they tumbled off, struck the dead grass, and once more, rotted. This time it was quicker and more complete. They soon became dust. As it was picked up by the wind, it returned to the tree, and the leaves reformed.

Such spells were tricky and required a great deal of magic. A great deal of dark magic, to be exact. The cat shuddered, its claws sinking into Mary’s arm, drawing blood. She should’ve paid far more attention to that pertinent fact. As it slipped down her now torn shirt, slid across her wrists, then dropped onto the ground, one or two little crackles of magic escaped. “It’s—” Mary went to say nothing again, but this time as the leaves returned, there were three of them. One of them wasn’t dead. It was little and green as if the tree was regrowing. “It’s a trap,” Mary changed her tune halfway through. She now threw herself around, locking the cat hard against her chest. “Trap,” the cat hissed. Her jaw didn’t drop at the fact it could speak. It might not have completed its familiar training, but it was still partially magical. She reached that tiny gap between the buildings, but that would be when it became even smaller. Just before she darted into it, the cat sank its claws into her shoulder, giving her all the pause she needed. If she’d thrust forward, she would’ve been squashed. She backed off, falling down to her ass but never dropping the cat. She shot up to her feet, turned, and faced the tree. Now there were four leaves, then five. She didn’t know what would happen when the tree regrew, but considering how dark this area was, it wouldn’t be good. “I need help,” she concluded. She shoved a hand into her pocket and tried to grab her phone, but that would be when something darted behind her. She couldn’t see what it was. She felt it, though. Magic, dark, shadowy, and deadly, welled up behind her. Something snapped forward and snatched hold of her wrist.

She felt this dense pulsing force rippling into her flesh. It was like being grabbed by an explosion. One that was contained. For now. The cat shrieked. It was half a feline hiss, half the sound of a human voice. Fortunately it didn’t claw Mary and force her to let it go. It nestled harder against her chest, knowing its best chances were with her. Mary didn’t scream. From now on, she wouldn’t waste a single breath. Her mind went into overdrive, trying to calculate what had grabbed her. She went to stare down at it, but the cat hissed into her ear. “Ghost demon. Don’t look – danger if do,” it said in garbled English. Ghost demon… seriously? She’d only just been discussing them. The cat was right. The energy behind her belonged to a ghost demon. Cold numbness spread through her wrist. She would lose the ability to move it soon. Now she had to control her magic. Ghost demons, like a lot of other nefarious magical creatures, worked by turning a practitioner’s magic against themselves. The key to getting out of here would be to control her force. The ghost demon hissed in her ear. If sound could be evil – if the very movement of force through the air could be nefarious – then this was the embodiment of that process. It slipped past her every defense, shook between her ears, and tried to create a void in her skull. That numbness marched up her hand, trying to infect her, trying to rob her of the ability to not just move, but to think her way out of this. The cat latched its claws harder into Mary’s shoulders, now holding on for dear life. Its little furry body shuddered against her and offered her the only warmth in her rapidly chilling form. Her eyes fluttered closed. She fought it at the last moment, a pulse of energy roaring through her.

She couldn’t just yank her way out of this ghost demon’s grip. She had to time the move. This wasn’t like when she’d fought Vincent’s ex-wife. She needed more than nous to do this. She had to use her tiny allocation of power, and she’d have to use it at just the right moment. The cat held on harder. Its claws drew more blood. It slid down Mary’s body. She watched it. It indicated how well she was controlling her magic. It was well enough that not a single spark was visible. Every drop shimmered just like an ordinary human’s blood should. “Give me your magic,” the ghost demon hissed from beside Mary. It was unusual for them to speak. Or rather it was unusual for someone to understand what they were saying. It wasn’t just that they spoke in tongues; they ensured they kept their victims in a state of confusion. You would constantly question what they’d just whispered in your ear. There was no question in Mary’s mind, though. She knew. “Just a little longer now, little witch. A little longer, and your magic will be ours.” “Like Hell,” Mary swore. But was it really swearing? This was exactly like Hell, after all. She sensed an opportunity. That marching coldness reached her chest, and it coursed through her bloodstream, getting faster. If she paid attention to it – the wrong kind – it would allow the demon’s control to slip further in. But she knew what to do. She closed her eyes, clutched the cat harder, and focused her attention on locking her magic even more securely in her chest. It was like there was a lockbox right there in her sternum. And it was one that the demon’s magic could not break. It hissed in her ear once more. “You will die a violent death in Hell. Give up your magic.” “How about you give up your own magic?” Mary hissed. The demon jolted, either at the fact that Mary could still move, or that she had

understood its words. That gave Mary the only opportunity she needed. With a grunt, she rammed backward into the demon, rolling her shoulders and giving them all the force she could muster. She used just the tiniest scrap of magic – nothing more than the equivalent of a spark. It ensured her move was as strong as it could be. It wrenched the demon off her. The cat hissed, but it was in satisfaction not fear. “Strong,” it stammered, its little whiskers twitching. “I have my moments,” Mary quipped. She turned. She stared right at the ghost demon. Now it wasn’t touching her, she could do that freely. It was smart, too. The ghost demon was trying to use fear to control her, trying to use it as a spade to dig out her magic. One way to overcome fear is to look at what you’re dealing with. Sometimes the unknown can be so much scarier than the known, even if the known is a gift right down from the depths of Hell. If Mary hadn’t already faced a ghost demon before, she wouldn’t be as blasé. But as her gaze slipped over the demonic form, she didn’t even shudder once. It had pearly white skin in patches that almost looked embryonic. But in others, it was dark and charred black. Those sections roved around its body like someone actively burning off chunks of it only for the skin to renew on fast forward. Its face… well, it had a face. That much could be said for it. But that shifted about, too, never taking on a substantial form for long. It had a repertoire of scary faces, and it was rolling through them to find the one that would unsettle Mary the most. None of them did. She stood there, the cat clutched against her chest with a castiron grip, the wind continuing to howl through this small yard. It was no ordinary meteorological phenomenon. It was connected to the tree somehow – and so was the ghost demon. A smart person wouldn’t back off toward the tree. A smart person, having realized that it was the cause of all of this trouble, would run in the opposite

direction. Smart people didn’t always win. Mary twisted and ran to it. She jumped into the dead patch of grass. As soon as her feet struck it, she heard this unholy hiss like the very ground was coming to life. It was accompanied by the scent of… why tart it up? It was the scent of death in all of its forms. It was as if thousands of corpses were buried under this very section of grass. She shuddered, but only once. The cat hissed again. “No time. As the tree grows, so too will the ghost demons.” Mary didn’t reply. Straining her head over her shoulder, she faced the ghost demon. It was still cycling through forms, desperate to find the one that would scare her the most. It would keep doing that until it got a reaction from her. That was the only way it knew how to hunt victims. But as she kept hold of her fear, as long as she did not react once, it would be in a weakened state. She didn’t clutch up her phone again, even though she knew she needed help. She might go toe to toe with this demon for a while, but she couldn’t defeat it. And God knows someone needed to do that. You couldn’t have a ghost demon this close to a populous area. Mary just had to get out of here. Easier said than done, though. There was no way to go through the alleyway back to the street beyond. There was no other gap on the opposite side of the building. As for scaling the walls? That became an impossibility. The bricks oozed. At first it was blood – then it was this awful green slime. As it slid down the walls, it was accompanied by this horrific hissing sound. It smelt like sulfur escaping a volcano cavity. It was just as dangerous, too. “Have to get away. More demons coming,” the cat warned. “Onto it.” Mary turned. She faced the tree. It by far was the most horrifying thing in this courtyard. The sense of death clinging to it made it feel like the earth’s crematorium, as if it had so much destructive power that, should anything

alive touch it, it would turn to ash. So what did Mary do? She touched it of course. Darting out her free hand, she slid her palm against the trunk, closing her eyes, not because she feared what she would find, but because she needed to control her mind. The cat hissed. “Stupid. But could work. Make it release its magic, and it might open a gate. Control yourself.” “I’m trying,” she hissed through clenched teeth. Her whole body shuddered. Steam erupted off her. As she touched the tree, its magic poured into her. As long as she didn’t allow it to meet her own magic, it would do nothing but use her as a conduit. Sure enough, steam kept buffeting off her. The ground below her feet trembled, too. Her clothes almost turned to ash, and a few locks of her hair cracked and crumbled to her feet. The rest of her was fine. The demon behind her screamed, a note of fury but fear shrieking through its voice. It realized Mary was about to escape. She wedged a hand harder against the gnarled trunk. She opened her eyes to the sight of more leaves appearing. Each one shimmered with magical power. “Only way to get out of here is to force the tree to grow. It will upset its magic. We’ll be able to use it to create a doorway to escape.” When she’d first come across the cat, it hadn’t seemed to be much of a familiar, but maybe this fearful situation was forcing it to evolve. It seemed to be fluffier, if that indicated a feline’s natural magical power. The look in its eyes was sharper, the glint around its slit pupils growing in intensity. Mary locked a hand harder against the tree. The courtyard continued to shake. The demon now raced toward her. It grabbed her again. It settled its claws into her skin. It hissed, screaming with such ferocity, it could’ve taken out her eardrums – if she’d paid attention to it. But therein was the trick. Mary paid attention to nothing more than the tree and letting its foul

magic race through her. It grew. “Your hand is activating the spell. Do not allow it to be pulled back,” the cat warned. The demon tried to wrench her backward, but Mary paid no attention to its straining muscles whatsoever. They bulged against her throat, feeling like they’d rip her neck open. They pulled off her enchanted bandage. Her throat bled. Maybe it was something about the magic, or the fact the demon thought it was hurting her, but it hissed with joy right by her ear. “You’re still not gonna win,” Mary warned. She closed her eyes. She didn’t get in the magic tree’s way. Most practitioners, upon feeling dark magic amass through them, let alone using their body as a conduit, would let their fear get the better of them. They would do whatever they could to stop the process. But in doing that, they would give the dark magic what it wanted. Mary was a glorified chute right now. Let the magic rush through her, let it burst through her veins. All that mattered was she did not fight the process one tiny bit. The demon hissed in her ear, its voice now filled with fear. “Can’t win. Must fail,” it snarled, losing the ability to form full sentences as its anger got the better of it. “Nothing more than a little witch.” “Sure, but you’re still going to lose.” Mary roared that just as she felt the tree’s power opening up completely. The sound of the trunk growing on fast forward filled the courtyard – a grating, bone-crunching affair. If Mary hadn’t been able to hold her stomach, it would’ve made her throw up. As it was, she just opened her eyes to the sight of the tree bursting into life.

“Now. Open up a transport spell,” the cat said. “I can’t—” “Then hold on to me.” Mary held on for dear life, keeping the cat so close, it became an extension of her chest. Magic charged up over the cat and sank into the tree. Mary melded with it. Her fingers slid along a leaf on the way past. She grabbed it up without thinking of it. The cat’s spell activated the tree entirely, and they moved right through it. The next thing Mary knew, she was standing in a dark corridor. She blinked, turning around, hair fanning, a few droplets of blood sliding off her face from her many injuries, mostly induced by the cat’s claws. “Where the heck are we?” “In a dark place,” the cat warned. It hunkered against her. “I couldn’t transport you further. Not safe yet. The demons will come. Run. Find the stairs. Get out.” “Dark place?” She didn’t run, instead turning and frowning. There was something about the exact feeling in this building. It didn’t take her long. It resembled the same squat building Vincent had gone into. At the thought of him, she started running. Energy built behind her. She didn’t need to crane her neck to detect it. It crackled darkly. It would be more demons. Sure enough, half a second later, she heard their screams split the air. And trust her, there were two. Bates’s warning that three ghost demons made up an army rushed through her head. It didn’t slow her down. She came across a darker section of the corridor. It was magically deilluminated. Even if she squinted, she couldn’t detect a thing. “Do not cast magic to create light,” the cat warned. “That’s what it wants you to do. Just run. I’ll try to direct you.”

Mary didn’t need any directions. She went with the feeling in her heart, and that was enough. All the while, she reminded herself to never give in to her fear. It was there, all right. She was still human. She could act oblivious most of the time, but there are situations when the body always takes charge. When death is imminent, it commands a direct line to your nervous system. So sure enough, her heart pounded, her skull rang, and sweat covered her body. Her hair clung to her neck, forming clumps around her throat. It stung against her opening injury. It hadn’t reopened to the deep wound from yesterday, but it oozed blood. A few droplets slipped down her torso and tumbled onto the floor. She soon reached a T-intersection. She knew that, based on the air currents alone. “I’m trying to calculate which direction to go in,” the cat said. It now spoke in perfect English. This frenetic situation had made it evolve. Not only could she now return the familiar to her client, but she could claim a fee for training. Mary twisted her head around. She couldn’t see anything else, but she was fully aware of the two ghost demons on her tail. Sorry, she said two. In a flicker, it became three. “Run,” the familiar said. The little cat didn’t tell her which direction. She had to figure it out for herself. She went to head to the right, but something stopped her. This niggling sensation ripped through her stomach, hit her bloodstream, and pumped into her muscles. She turned and threw herself to the left. She didn’t know why, but she could sense Vincent was somewhere nearby. The demons roared. The pitch of their shrieks could’ve broken through any wall in their way, including her chest wall. She just clutched the cat harder to her body, and the little guy hunkered down next to her, his whiskers scratching at her cheeks. She flung herself up another set of stairs, then down a corridor. All the while, she

only just kept out of the demons’ way. That wouldn’t happen forever. As they surged up behind her, she didn’t turn to watch, but she knew another demon ed them. That made four of them now. What was that…? If three was an army, what was four? An armada? Her heart trembled. She still tried to control her fear, but it was getting a heck of a lot harder. Simple statistics told her she had no chance. There was only one possibility. Run toward that sense of Vincent, and don’t look back.

14

Vincent

He slowly walked up the steps that led to the door out of here. He wanted to run. His whole body screamed at him to leave as fast as he could. His neck still tingled from where Mary had grabbed it. No. She didn’t have a name anymore. His ex-wife had never been human. She’d always been a plant from the Devil. He would not do her the dignity of calling her anything other than a demoness. He let his hand drop. Determinedly clutching it into a fist, he slowed down his footfall even more. He took every step with almost aching control. He reached the door. He settled a hand on it, a few magical sparks sinking into the metal. Then it swung open. He let a breath of relief rumble through him. It parted his lips. It had a chance to go nowhere else, though. As he walked out, it was to the sign of a frantic Bates pacing next to the car. It didn’t take long for Vincent to realize why Bates was terrified. Mary was nowhere to be seen. Vincent took several lurching steps over. “What happened? Did she run? Where did she go?” “No clue, but the demonic sensor in the car is going wild. There’s some kind of attack going on nearby,” Bates spat that out as fast as he could. He flung himself back into the car, grabbed up the demonic sensor on the dash, and clutched it in a sweaty, shaking grip. Even from here, Vincent could see the screen flashing with a category five warning. That meant true demons were on the loose somewhere nearby. Vincent didn’t for a second think it was his first ex-wife. She could not leave Hell until the gate opened into Bridgetown fully.

“Where did Mary go?” Vincent spat. “No clue. I took my eyes off her for one second, and she disappeared.” “Dammit,” Vincent roared. He went to run. That’s when he heard someone sprinting up the steps behind him. His eyes pulsed wide. No one else had been down there with him. That meant that whatever rose up the steps was a demon too. He turned, thrusting his arms out wide and opening his hands with a pulse of magic. As force spread down them, crackling brighter than flames from the sun, he got ready for one lethal, effective attack. Then the thing ran up over the stairs, and his body froze. Mary. Her hair stuck to her neck, blood slid down her injury, and wounds covered her shoulders and face. She also had a cat familiar with her. That wasn’t the most pertinent fact, however. Four ghost demons were hot on her tail. She went to run past him. He wouldn’t let her. He snapped in close, looped an arm around her middle, and magically ported to the side. Transportation spells were expensive. He would need to keep most of his magic for fighting off the demons. So he only moved her several meters out of the way of the direct line of sight of the demons as they rushed up the stairs. Then Vincent twisted and shot forward. “Boss,” Bates called. Real fear shook in his voice. The kind you would use if you knew the person before you was seconds from death. Hell, Vincent wasn’t seconds from death – he was closer. He did not have the power to take on four ghost demons. But if he got to that door and closed it in time, he wouldn’t have to. His heart beat hard, magic spiraling over his body. He reached the door and kicked it closed. He blocked off three of the demons, but one of them slipped past.

“Boss,” Bates roared again. Vincent had a moment – one second to realize a demon had escaped – then it was upon him. It sank its claws into his shoulders, wrapping around his back like a coiling snake. Mary shoved up to her feet. She still had the cat in her arms. Vincent had one choice. If he turned and he fought the demon, he might live. But then he wouldn’t be able to seal the door closed, and the three other demons would break free. He knew what decision he had to make. Locking his body forward, he grabbed the handle in a shaking, bloody grip. As magic exploded up over his flesh, he stared at Mary and clenched his teeth. “Run. Get out of here now. Move.” She didn’t move, not away at least. She rocketed forward. The cat hissed but didn’t leave her. What did she think she could do? Vincent’s eyes widened, something like hope blossoming through his heart, but then she reached the demon. She didn’t produce a powerful attack and prove she wasn’t a level I witch after all. No. The demon beat its wings, and it struck Mary right on the side of her face. It cut her right down to the bones. That’s not all it did. It struck her with a burst of magic that saw her thrown up into the air. She slammed back down 20 meters away. “Mary,” he roared. Though he tried to scream her name again, the demon now clutched his throat. “Boss,” Bates screamed. Vincent had to get his hands around the door handle, had to keep pumping sealing magic into it. The three other ghost demons on the opposite side rattled against the metal frame. Occasionally they broke through the solidity of the metal, their claws slicing past his face. His shirt was trashed, his jacket shredded. But the door remained for now, and so too did the sealing spell. He only needed a few more seconds.

The ghost demon holding him knew this. It locked its hands harder around his throat. Bates tried to attack it from afar, but more demonic energy picked up around this building, and his attacks, no matter how strong, couldn’t penetrate it. Bates would not dare to get any closer. Do that, and he might be drawn in by the demonic energy. He could even be possessed. Vincent was on his own. No one could save him. Fitting. His life had always been leading to this point. But before he could close his eyes, Mary somehow rocketed up. She should have been half dead. She swayed, and the cuts in her cheeks bled so much, it was as if somebody had attached pumps to them. She still reached the demon, knocked into its side, then twisted. The demon hissed. “I thought you wanted to drag me down to Hell?” she quipped, despite the situation. “I thought you ghost demons prided yourself on being able to take down every single prey you attacked?” I’m still standing,” she snarled. The ghost demon twisted its head around, gnashing its teeth. “Mary, get out of here,” Vincent barked. He was losing energy. The injuries to his throat…. He threatened to black out. “Fine. If you don’t want to attack me, how about I attack this?” Mary put the cat down. It didn’t run away, just darted behind her, its tail flashing. Mary produced something from her sleeve. Vincent’s eyes widened. It seemed like time slowed down. “I don’t exactly know what this is, but it’s an offering from a demonic tree, so I guess it’s kind of powerful. And fragile. It’s been removed from the tree’s direct control. Pretty easy to burn, then.”

She let a single tiny spark of flame appear in her palm. It was probably all that she could manage. But it was sufficient to burn the leaf. The demon screamed. It jerked away from Vincent. It shoved toward her. Mary kicked back, rolled expertly, and twisted around. She didn’t use transport magic, but she didn’t have to. She was fast, agile, and knew how to move her body. Vincent didn’t turn, no matter how much he wanted to help her. He needed a few more seconds. “Be careful,” Bates roared. “I always am.” Mary kicked back. She dodged again just as the demon reached her. She looked at Vincent for a second. “I’m trusting you’ll be able to dispatch this demon after you seal that door. I sure hope you live up to your side of our contract.” She stopped and opened her arms. The demon leaf remained in her palm, her magic attempting to burn it. It would take a while, though. What was she doing? He swore his eyes were already as wide as they could be, but he realized they could get even wider as they strained like groping hands. The demon wrapped around Mary from behind. It jolted into her with so much force, her shoes skidded across the dirt beneath her. Then it wrapped its claws around her body. They sank into her shoulders, into the tender flesh of her neck, and into her stomach. “Mary,” he screamed. The last surge of power bolted up through his body, sank into the handle, and sealed the door. A demon from within had been trying to reach through it, but as magic crackled down the metal, it sliced its hand clean off. It fell by Vincent’s feet, withering into dust.

Vincent whirled on his shoe, moving faster than he ever had before. Every single muscle jerked and contracted in unison. Mary’s arms were still spread, the demon right behind her. Its mouth was about to clamp around her throat. The look on her face? It was as if she was somewhere else enjoying something else. Fear should be owning her, rattling up through her chest, plunging into her lips, and shaking scream after scream out of her throat. Instead? Naught but determination and calm stared back at him. “Quick,” Bates screamed. He rocked from fright and the inability to do anything. His large shoulders pressed up against the limousine. Vincent moved quicker than he ever had in his entire existence combined. Once, he’d fought in the tournament. He could that day – whenever he was stupid enough to close his eyes. But even then, he didn’t move as quickly as he did now. He reached the demon just as Vincent heard the crunch of flesh and bones. As a splitting scream cracked from Vincent’s lips, he twisted around, grabbed the demon by the back of its throat, and yanked it off Mary. She crumpled. Blood slid down her neck in long glistening lines. Vincent’s instincts usually worked on their own. He rarely had to tune in to somebody to know what their condition was – especially when they had a fatal wound to part of their circulatory system. There were some facts about being a vampire that were unassailable. Right now, willful fog filled his mind, playing around Mary, preventing him from assessing whether she was on death’s door or if she would live through this. The demon thrashed, trying to use everything it could to get away. It clawed at him, but its sharp black talons could no longer break through his enchantment. Its wings had been pressed up against its side, but now it attempted to flap them. They couldn’t push past Vincent’s bulging biceps. It twisted its head around, considering its neck was less of a constraint and more of a suggestion. It glowered up into his gaze with pure hatred. For a single flicker, he almost saw his ex-wife’s gaze in there, the demoness Grendel. So he just sneered back. Vincent closed his arms around the demon’s back tighter. With low guttural growls, he screamed his enchantment. Beat after beat, it was like a tribal drum. And beat after beat, it exploded into the demon’s body. Great shuddering shakes ripped through its form, starting in its chest and jolting

down to its feet. When they ricocheted up and reached its wings, one of them cracked. The hatred that’d been burning in the demon’s eyes as brightly as any star in the night sky twisted. It turned into fear. With one last push, Vincent rammed all his magic into the enchantment, and red symbols spilled around him like freshly let blood. They traced their way through the air, glowing brighter than Hellfire. And they sank into the demon’s flesh. It cracked. The beast yanked its head back, tearing a chunk out of its neck at the sudden move. Its lips spread wide, its jagged yellow teeth catching the sun. It shattered. There was no ceremony. You’d think from such an epic attack that the ground would shake and horns would blare. There was nothing but the sound of tinkling glass. The demon’s dust fell by Vincent’s feet. He opened his arms, racing toward Mary. Somehow she was already getting to her feet. She patted her neck, smoothing her hand down her bloodsoaked top and giving it the look you would a dog who always dragged dirt over the carpet. “Why can I never keep this thing clean?” “Don’t speak,” Vincent commanded her in a rattling voice. He slid behind her. His muscles weren’t working. Yes, he had received considerable injuries, but they were already on their way to healing. His flesh had been damaged, but not his magic system. In half an hour or so, he’d be fine. Mary had a fundamentally human body, and there were natural biological constraints on it. One such constraint was the human throat. A preciously fragile area – trust a vampire on that one. With so much important vascular activity, if you cut it in the wrong section or pressed it too hard, you could kill someone, just like that. Vincent did what he hadn’t been able to before. As he looped his arms around Mary and pressed his hand against her throat, he tuned in to her injuries. What he found made him sick to his stomach. Mary was alive. She might stay that way. She might not. The ghost demon had almost ripped her throat out. She made the mistake of trying to chuckle. It was a mistake for two reasons. Not

only did it increase the size of her injury, but it was the last thing Vincent could put up with – for this was no laughing matter. “You will stay silent, and you will stay still. Or you will break the contract,” he added, realizing he needed more ammunition to get Mary to comply. Pain couldn’t constrain her actions, regardless of how significant that pain was. Weirdly, she did as he said. She hardly swooned against him, but she no longer stood. She let her feet fall out from underneath her. Vincent propped her up easily. Bates ran back and forth along the car, as close to the Devil gate as he could bear. All he wanted to do was throw caution to the wind and race up to them, but he couldn’t. When Vincent got there, Bates snapped in close. He pressed his hand against the back of Mary’s head. “She has to get to the hospital now.” “I’m well aware of that, Bates. You drive.” Bates barreled into the front. Vincent maneuvered into the back seat, Mary always in his arms. She was slack as she stared up at Vincent. Before his gut could kick and tell him that meant she was about to black out, he watched her lips twitch. She wanted to speak again. Dammit. He shook his head once. So she reached into her pocket instead. He clenched his teeth, ready to knock her out, but that would be when she withdrew the demon leaf. An offering from a demon tree, to be exact. Vincent’s gaze locked on it, his whole body freezing. It spoke to the remnants of Devil magic he’d used only minutes ago – spoke to them like a lover whispering in his ear, like a hand running down his chest, like a voice that couldn’t be silenced, no matter how many distractions you put in its way. Mary’s eyes still focused on him, and trust him, while her throat might not function, her intelligence somehow still worked fine. Her eyes narrowed at his obvious reaction to the leaf. Vincent didn’t want to be distracted from protecting her injuries. But the demon leaf was important. Settling her down, ensuring she lay comfortably as he kept one hand on her throat, he plucked up the leaf. Magic zapped into his skin. It

sank in like biting mouths. Every spark was like teeth, and they were getting sharper. He had to clench his own teeth, shoving his feet down until they pushed against the footwell. He wasn’t attempting to spring to his feet. This wasn’t even about distracting his body with muscular tension. He had to ground himself. The car now raced down the street, just as fast and nimbly as a limousine could, but the tires were still connected to the ground. And Vincent needed that connection. When encountering significant spells – be they light or dark – the body had to protect itself. Its systems were homeostatic. Introduce too much magic of any kind, and you could black out easily. Or worse – subconsciously become a conduit and a puppet for all of that power. Mary opened her lips again. Vincent shook his head. He grasped his fingers tightly around the demon leaf, ensuring that it not only no longer acted as a distraction to him, but that any excess power it had couldn’t call any more demons. “I will deal with it. I promise. It’s critical you don’t speak. You have a significant throat injury. Speaking of which,” he said, starting off with a controlled voice but losing it as rapidly as someone attempting to hold an anvil with naught but their pinky finger. “How did you get down there? Why were you being chased by four ghost demons? And how are you still alive?” Her eyes were open and expressive. But then they clunked down on the last bit. She shrugged her shoulders. Vincent just stared. Where else could he look? She lay prone on his lap, and Bates did all the driving. There was nothing and no one to snap their fingers in front of Vincent’s nose to divert his attention. Even if the entire city had exploded, he wouldn’t have looked away anyway. His eyes became magnetically attracted to Mary, his curiosity acting as a fire that could never be put out. It burnt brighter as his gaze darted down her injuries. Now the demon leaf was contained, he placed it in his tro pocket. He pressed it against his phone. It wasn’t that he foolishly thought the demon leaf might need to call some friends. His phone had some of his strongest magical enchantments cast on it. It was a good conduit for his power. If he couldn’t hold the demon leaf, he’d use the phone as a proxy, pulsing his magic via it into the leaf to ensure it could cause no trouble. Once his hand was free, Vincent let it hover in the air, just above Mary’s face. There were too many injuries to check on. That was the reason he couldn’t quite bring himself to drop his fingers down and press them against her face, correct?

He never got the chance, anyway. Bates coughed gruffly from the front seat. “The magicometer is warning that we’ve got some kind of spiritual being on the car. Up on the roof,” he snapped. Vincent jolted his head back. He extended his hand up, ready to interact with the roof, increase its magic, and deal with whatever creature wanted to break through. Mary snapped her arm up and grabbed his fingers. She winced in pain. Though she only moved her hand, the muscles of the human body were interconnected. She inched her neck back, and Vincent felt more blood pooling against his palm. “What are you doing?” he demanded in a shaking voice. “Cat,” Mary mouthed. “The familiar?” Bates put the window down. “Is the familiar up there?” he asked. He didn’t accept this wasn’t a threat. He yanked one hand up off the steering wheel, opened it until his palm and fingers spread wide, and sent charge after charge of magic zipping through them. If it wasn’t the familiar up there, Bates would deal with it, and do so with the quick, violent efficiency of an ex-army warlock. Although he was driving fast, the cat popped its head through the window. Its whiskers twitched. It glanced from Bates over to Mary, then jumped into the vehicle. Bates spluttered, but didn’t stop it. It bounded onto his lap, into the enger seat, then over the headrest and down into the footwell by Vincent’s side. The cat flashed its tail as it looked up at Vincent. Vincent narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what occurred. Why are you here? Wait,” he shook his head, “do not tell me Mary sacrificed herself to track down a mere cat and that’s why she ran from Bates?” Vincent didn’t expect the cat would be able to speak clearly. While it had familiar magic, it didn’t seem to be well advanced. It had interrupted its training. The cat still twitched its whiskers in a peevish manner. “I’m not a mere cat,” he

said in perfect English. Vincent arched an eyebrow. “Your magic is clearly more advanced than it seems.” “Circumstances dictated that I evolve quickly in order to survive. Such is life,” the cat commented. Then it jumped up on the back seat next to Mary’s leg. Mary went to reach out and pat it. Vincent hissed at her. “I see my mistress is quite injured. Let me fill in the details of what occurred.” Vincent’s eyebrows clunked down. “Mistress? She discovered you – presumably for a client. Presumably one you ran away from. She’s not your mistress.” Vincent didn’t know why, but an edge rang through his voice – one of possessiveness. The cat noted it too. It also arched an eyebrow. It was a strange sight indeed to see its little furry face go through such a motion. Maybe you could assume that cat faces were not programmed for such movements. Humans have defined eyebrows, but felines don’t. Yet cats have something that humans can never hope for – true disdain. The little familiar pulled off that impatient move better than Vincent ever could. “I may be making this up,” the cat hissed. “But it doesn’t seem that you are familiar with my mistress. You are in no position to decide who I work for, either. Vampires know their place in the wider magical community, and so do familiars.” The cat bowed. The whole while, Mary watched it, confusion rumpling her brow. It nuzzled up to her. “You assisted me, broke the fugue spell that brought me to that courtyard, and allowed me to evolve on my own. I will now be your familiar until death.” Mary went to shake her head. Vincent hissed. “Do not move. I will do this myself.”

The cat arched an eyebrow at Vincent again. Honestly, he could pull off dismissive better than any councilmember vampire, and that was saying something. “You will not deal with it. My mistress isn’t capable of speaking right now, so I will further explain the situation, pledge my loyalty to her officially, and sever my connection to my previous master. We were not compatible,” he said as he twitched his whiskers. “She sought too much of me without appreciating my natural abilities.” “It isn’t so easy to breach a contract with a witch—” Vincent began. “I appreciate that vampires are experts when it comes to contracts, but do not fear. I know my rights as a familiar. Are my future decisions really what you want to know right now? Or would you prefer I concentrate on the demons who almost broke free to wreak havoc on this fair city?” Vincent ground his teeth together. He didn’t much appreciate the cat’s tone. But at least he could appreciate the look in the little familiar’s eyes. A depth of fear shook there, concern too as he flashed his gaze back down to Mary. “What happened?” Vincent demanded. “Several days ago when I escaped my mistress, I was attracted to this area. Dark whispers,” the cat hissed as he twitched his whiskers once more. “Though I didn’t appreciate this at the time, for I didn’t have sufficient magic—” “Cut to the bit about Mary,” Vincent chided. “You’ll find context is everything in this situation. While I didn’t know why I was attracted to that location previously, I now appreciate that building belonged to the Devil himself.” Vincent’s gut clenched. He had to deny that. Why bother? The cat knew what he spoke of. Rather than confirm anything, however, Vincent darkened his gaze. “The energy must be leaking out of the Devil’s sealed gate. For I was drawn to that area and couldn’t leave. When my mistress found me,” the cat nodded at Mary, “she chased me. I was drawn further toward the Devil seal. Around the block at the back of that building, I found a little laneway that led… to a

courtyard.” The cat had to slow down each word. And each had a progressively more intense effect on him. He tilted his head up now, a growing glassy look in his gaze. Bates stayed deadly quiet. Somehow even that couldn’t match how exquisitely hesitant Vincent became. His gaze darted back and forth, drawing in every detail of the cat’s reaction. Vincent had gone down there to check the seal himself. While it had reduced in power, what the cat said suggested a far more devastating leak than that which he’d encountered. Though it could be easy to deny the cat, his overblown reaction was evidence Vincent couldn’t ignore the familiar’s frightened words. “There was a tree,” the cat managed. The little guy had stopped twitching his whiskers. Hell, he’d stopped moving. The only thing that shifted was his mouth. “And on the tree were two recycling leaves.” “Recycling leaves?” Bates asked from the front seat. It was rare that Bates didn’t know something about magic. But there were some facts rarely shared with the so-called good races. And warlocks were far nicer than vampires and far less connected to nature than familiars. Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “Are you certain?” The cat shot him another peevish look. “Familiars do not lie.” “Familiars do not lie to their masters,” Vincent corrected him. “And I am not your master as you have made abundantly clear. So I will only ask you once more. Are you certain of what you saw?” “I wasn’t the only one who saw it. Where do you think that leaf in your pocket comes from? It was from a recycling spell.” “Sir,” Bates said. “What the heck is a recycling spell, and why have you gone all quiet?” Why indeed. Vincent pressed his teeth together. He ground them back and forth. He listened

to the sound reverberating through his skull, and it focused his mind, allowing him to close his eyes for a few brief seconds. “Such spells concentrate demonic energy from one area and pump it into another.” “You are forgetting a very important part of that equation,” the cat interrupted. “If you plant a demon tree in the wrong area, it can upset the foundations of nearby buildings, regardless of their magical protections.” “You’ve lost me,” Bates itted. “The demon tree was planted behind the Devil seal,” the cat stated. The whole while, Vincent just watched. His mind whirled. It was like a hurricane raged between his temples. If even only part of the story was true, it meant Bridgetown was in a far worse situation than Vincent could’ve ever imagined. It wouldn’t be years until it fell to the Devil. Unchecked, it could be days. All the while, Mary remained there. She at least didn’t move. That said, her eyes did. They opened wide expressively whenever the cat shared his story. That told Vincent yet again the cat wasn’t lying. But Mary…. He jerked his gaze toward her. He let too much show. The cat twitched his whiskers. He even hissed and brought up a paw like he’d swipe Vincent. “What are you doing?” Vincent demanded. “I don’t much like the look you just shot my mistress.” “Excuse me?” “You are an easily distractible vampire. You have not even listened to the rest of my tale. My mistress found me, and a ghost demon found her. She fought it easily. She’s clearly quite a powerful witch.”

Vincent looked at the familiar. The familiar looked back. “She is a level I witch,” Vincent itted. It wasn’t something he should’ve shared, wasn’t something he even had the right to share. Mary had been compliant. Now she receded. Her jaw hardened – a dangerous move considering her neck injuries. He softened his gaze as he glanced at her, but she tried to turn away. The cat just let out a huff of a laugh. “Levels are irrelevant measures of power and always have been. They are constructs of the mind and not part of nature. I assure you, we familiars do not accept their existence and do not judge others by them. Now, listen to the rest of the story. My mistress used the tree as a conduit against itself and forced it to open up its power to the Devil seal. In retrospect, I didn’t know where it was located at the time and assumed it would allow us to transport away. But I was somewhat distracted by all that demonic magic.” Vincent’s mouth opened. 1001 questions readied themselves behind his lips, but his mouth was no longer amenable to moving. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t form the words. But the cat picked up on his hesitation. “You heard precisely what I said. She channeled the demon tree’s energy back on itself.” “No one could do that without scars,” Bates interrupted from the front seat. “Hell, no one could do that without being possessed.” “You warlocks are fascinatingly stupid creatures. I assumed vampires were a little smarter, but clearly not. Anyone can channel demonic energy. You just have to not get in its way. You turn it against itself, which my mistress did with aplomb. Then I’m afraid to say that we transported inside the Devil seal building. Three more demons appeared. My mistress accurately navigated out of there, and the rest, as you say, is history.” Silence filled the car – the edgy kind that made you want to fill it, but made you realize you’d never be able to move your lips again. Vincent made the mistake of darting his gaze up and making eye with Bates in the rear vision mirror. Bates’s skin was all pasty, his eyes wide, his lips

partially open. Vincent didn’t imagine he was faring much better. The whole while, Mary remained conscious. She saw everything, her gaze never deviating off Vincent’s face. Though most of Vincent’s vampiric attention was locked on her body to ensure she was safe, a little of it slipped down to her stomach and noted how much it clenched and how much tension coiled through her like a snake. He pressed his lips together and swallowed. “I see.” The cat twitched his long white whiskers once more. “Do you? Or is that something you reflexively say when you’re grossly out of your depth, vampire?” Vincent didn’t like familiars at the best of times. But this familiar was irritatingly smart. He, just like his so-called mistress, also didn’t hold back, saying whatever was on his mind. Vincent swallowed. There was no time to say anything more. “We’re here,” Bates said. He didn’t park in the car park properly. He rammed his way up onto the pavement, right outside of the front doors. Vincent kicked his door open, muscled Mary back into his arms, and jumped out. A security guard rushed their way but clapped eyes on Vincent and paled. “Get every doctor you can,” Vincent demanded. His grip tightened around Mary. And he kept doing that. His fingers searched for more grip, his arms wrapping around her until she clung to his chest, until nothing could rip her away. Bates wanted to get out of the car, but he knew full well he couldn’t park there forever. The cat, however, accompanied Vincent, jumping down onto the pavement and rushing forward, the little guy’s white and black tail slashing like a ticking clock. As soon as Vincent rushed through the front doors, two vampire doctors in long white coats were already waiting for him. The doctor at the lead was a good

friend of Vincent’s. Celeste Montgomery. She took one long look at Mary, then shook her head grimly. “This way.” Vincent’s gut descended. Technically, Vincent didn’t need Celeste’s grim frown to tell him Mary was already on the edge. Never letting her go, his hands tightening around Mary’s weak shoulders, he ran, his shoes slapping against the polished floor. Rather than head straight to the emergency ward, Celeste led him to a large private room. Other doctors waited there. As Vincent muscled into the room, he saw the bed in the middle – a magical gurney. Not only was it hooked up to powerful devices, but it possessed its own charms. They crackled, waiting for their patient. As long lines of almost lovely yellow light sparked around them, Vincent knew it was time to give her up, but his hands wouldn’t comply. That was until the cat deliberately bumped into his legs. “You can’t save her. Now put her down, you foolish vampire.” Vincent twitched and walked over. He placed Mary down and took a quick step back. He went to wipe his face but paused when he realized Mary’s blood still covered his hand. For far too long, he kept his palm there, pressed right above his lips. He wasn’t about to taste her blood. He wasn’t such a base creature, but this close to his face, and critically this close to his powerful vampire senses, he could no longer ignore just how injured Mary was. And yet did she act as if she was injured? No. She looked around the room, her neck straining as she attempted to get a better view. Celeste would have none of that. She stalked in close, her heels clicking, and twisted one finger in the air. A settling charm rose from the bed, snagged hold of Mary’s muscles, and put her under. Mary blinked languidly over at Vincent once, then slipped under. His gut clenched the entire time. His fear rose to warn him that this would be the last time he would ever see her awake.

He spun towards Celeste. She lifted a hand and opened it wide. “This is where you have to leave her to the experts, Vincent. I will do what I can. As for her prognosis.” Again her lips descended into a grim frown. “We shall see. She may have a chance. She appears to have strong stamina for a low-level witch.” Vincent took a step back. Then he went to take a step forward, but the cat got in his way. He shot Vincent another peevish look, a move his furry face appeared to be perfectly manufactured for. “Do not get in their way. You heard the doctor. Mary is now in good hands. You should leave the room,” the cat added. “As should you,” Vincent growled. “Not so fast. I am a familiar. That makes me a family member. It means I have every right to stay here. But I will be unobtrusive,” the cat announced in a louder voice. He jumped up onto an unused shelf and just watched. Celeste darted her gaze over to him. “Level I witches don’t have familiars.” “I think you’ll find that powerful familiars can decide who they work for and why. I will be unobtrusive,” he said again. He locked his powerful gaze on Mary, his tail flashing. That meant all attention came back to Vincent. Celeste shot him one long, demanding look. Reluctantly, he turned. He made it to the door, then paused – for far too long, his gaze slipping over Mary’s unconscious form. After another snapped command from Celeste, he left the room. He closed the door behind him. Then the soulcrushing emptiness rushed in. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. To be exact, he hadn’t endured it ever since his first wife had turned out to be the demoness Grendel. It hadn’t escaped him that Grendel had chosen Mary as her human name. A coincidence. For it wasn’t as if the current Mary would ever become his wife.

Statistics dictated it was highly unlikely she would live through this. Vincent slipped a hand into his pocket. He went to grab the ring, but it seemed wrong. He slipped his hand into his other pocket instead and let one finger slice across the demon leaf. Now his mind settled, or at least it had nothing to distract itself with, he turned his attention to just how incredible this was. He wasn’t stupid enough to bring the demon leaf out – not in a hospital setting. The negativity would escape, and it could do untold things to the patients staying here. There was a psychiatric ward not too far from this wing. Any magical creature unlucky enough to have ever been possessed or cursed by the damned would feel the demon leaf’s energy, and it would make them arc up. There was another reason he didn’t pull the leaf out. He had to do so in a controlled manner to ascertain just what kind of connection it still had to the Devil seal. The… Devil seal. Had he processed the fact the seal was under attack yet? That the city might only have seven days or fewer until Hell arrived? Vincent remained there, getting colder by the moment until he heard frantic footfall. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Bates. Anyone would be able to tell it was him. For there wasn’t footfall as large and pounding anywhere in the city. Even a fully grown gargoyle wouldn’t sound as heavy. Bates rushed right up to Vincent’s side. He went to dart toward the door, but Vincent put a hand out. He left his fingers open for far too long. It would allow Bates to see that sweat had slipped between the webbing and the fact Vincent couldn’t quite hold his body steady. Bates noticed, all right, his gaze darting down then up to Vincent’s face. “Will she live?” Vincent shrugged. It was an underwhelming move, considering just how frantically he’d attempted to save her life. It was all he could manage. Bates’s eyebrows twitched like he wanted to get angry. Then he turned around swiftly, pushed back against the wall beside Vincent, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Neither man said anything for a long while.

It took half an hour until Vincent detected that Celeste was done. She sighed and opened the door. Vincent whirled. “What—” Celeste grabbed the back of her neck, securing her fingers in as she sighed. Her hand soon dropped. The slightest flicker of a smile pressed across her lips. Relief flooded in – an emotion a man as controlled as Vincent shouldn’t show. But hide it he could not. His shoulders crumpled, his stature carving in half. “Will she live?” She crossed her arms. “Yes, she will live. In fact, her injuries were not nearly as extensive as I assumed.” His lips twitched. “I felt them myself—” Celeste pressed her fingers against her brow and let them slide down the bridge of her nose. “Let me correct myself. While the injuries are significant or would be to an ordinary person, they were not to her.” Bates became more rigid beside Vincent, his jacket scrunching against the wall behind him. If he twitched his shoulders any harder, considering his inherent power, he could gouge chunks of plaster right out of it. “She’s just a level I witch.” “Indeed.” Celeste gave nothing away. At least her words didn’t. The curiosity flickering in her gaze suggested there was much, much more going on here. Vincent’s stomach kicked. It’d done that too much over the past several days. More than it had in years. “Why do you look like that?” “There is some discussion amongst magical races about whether levels mean much. Especially amongst witches and warlocks.” Bates was a warlock himself. This wasn’t just a theoretical conversation to him. So he frowned. “They mean quite a bit. I’ve never heard of this discussion.” “Amongst the medical community, then,” she corrected.

“What are you trying to get at?” Bates demanded. “Raw power does not necessarily dictate whether somebody becomes a powerful practitioner,” Celeste said. Bates just looked confused. Fair enough. It was one of the well-known facts of the magical community. How much magic you could create dictated how powerful you were. It was like an electricity generator. There was a very simple relationship between how much power the body could generate and how much power a practitioner could therefore produce. If you knew how to wield that power, that was. She crossed her arms again. “She doesn’t have a lot of power, but she certainly knows how to use it.” “What are you trying to get at, Celeste?” Vincent asked. He ensured his voice remained quiet. If people struggled to hear it, then none of his raging emotions would become obvious. Nobody would have to stare at him and question why he cared so much about a simple level I witch in the first place. Celeste detected something, anyway. She looked up at him from under her fingers as she pinched her nose harder, leaving half-moon cuts in the flesh. “Why are you so interested in her, anyway? She’s not your new wife, is she?” Interest flattened her lips. He’d known Celeste too long. He stiffened. “Not yet, but you have plans to make her so, I see. In that case, there’s something you need to be aware of.” “What’s that?” His stomach pitched. “Not only can she practice with little magic, but she appears to have a restriction in her body.” Vincent’s lips slipped open, but he couldn’t repeat the question. Confusion whirled within him. “A restriction? But she’s human.” “Indeed.”

Bates pushed forward. His upper body became stiff like every muscle was carved steel. “Ah, what’s a restriction? Why do you keep talking about things I don’t know about? It’s not like I’m a newbie warlock.” Celeste turned to him. “Restrictions are very, very rare. And they’re usually never seen in humans.” Bates looked at the door. “Are you telling me she’s not human?” He gestured his stiff thumb over his equally stiff shoulder. Celeste shook her head. “She’s definitely a human.” “Then how could she possibly have a restriction?” Vincent demanded. Now he knew Mary would be okay, his curiosity came to the fore once more. It was somehow far more powerful than it had been before. It rose, and it rose, and it rose. You could build a wall in its way. It would just push on past. You could put an army in front of it. It would consume them. It felt as if nothing – safe for answers – would ever quell it. “The answer is I don’t know. But she certainly has a restriction.” “What exactly is a restriction?” Bates asked in a long-suffering voice. He was a competent warlock, and knew that one of the most important factors in winning was knowing accurate information about your situation at all times. It was a fundamental tenet of the army. And it was a requirement for all Vincent’s staff, too. “A restriction is exactly what it sounds like. It’s something in somebody’s body that prevents them from either reaching the true potential of their magic or something else.” “So you’re saying she is actually more powerful than she is?” “Unlikely,” Celeste said. “More often than not, restrictions aren’t to do with magical practice directly.” “Then what exactly do they restrict?” Bates’s frustration was getting to him. He was usually pretty easy to chat to. But he lost all neutrality, his syllables spitting with frustration.

Vincent inclined his head all the way around. He didn’t push through the door to see Mary. She was presumably still unconscious. If she weren’t, knowing her, she’d already be on her feet. You often saw restrictions in vampires. You saw them in demons too. Even angels sometimes – any of the far more powerful non-human magical races. But you never saw them in humans. For what was there to restrict? Celeste had already confirmed that Mary was human, and there was no doubt in Vincent’s mind too, so she had to be wrong. He went to shake his head. Celeste brought up a hand and held it out wide. “Before you believe it’s easier to just assume that we’re wrong and she doesn’t have a restriction, every doctor confirmed that. You can even see it for yourself. She’s unconscious. Come on.” She flicked her fingers forward. The door opened for her. She strode in. Sure enough, Mary was unconscious. The bed kept her so. Her head lolled to the side, her hair clean, the blood gone. Every speck was gone from her clothes, too. It was disarming to see her quiet like a doll like this. Vincent might not have known her long, but he preferred her when she was up on her feet, even if that meant she was often fighting him. A knot formed in his stomach as he stopped by her bed. Celeste went to twist her fingers to the side just over the enchantment surrounding Mary, but the cat jumped down from the shelf. “This is private medical information. Why are you sharing my mistress’s condition with this man?” “Because it’s important for the security of this city, and he is a member of the council,” Celeste said smoothly. The familiar might not like Vincent, and the little guy might be a new familiar at that, but he still knew the basic rules of this town. He opened his mouth and hissed, but he didn’t stop Celeste again. Celeste clicked her fingers, and as the sound echoed through the room, Vincent saw something appear up over the magical restraint keeping Mary unconscious.

He was prepared for it, but he also wasn’t. Deep in his mind, he still fought this fact, still told himself that Celeste’s assessment was mistaken. But his eyes couldn’t deny reality for long. A complicated interwoven mesh-like symbol appeared over Mary’s stomach. Vincent had seen restrictions before. Technically, his first wife, Grendel, had had one. Though her restriction had been nothing more than an attempt to hide her demoness form from him. When it had been discovered… he couldn’t go there. The similarity between their circumstances was a little too much, however. He took a large, shaking step backward. That just pushed him up against the cat’s darting body. The familiar soon jumped up on the side of Mary’s bed. He might’ve only recently come in to his powers, but most practitioners wouldn’t dare get that close to a powerful enchantment. The cat twitched his whiskers and flashed his tail, trying to discharge the magic, but didn’t jump down. “Be careful. I don’t need another critical patient today,” Celeste snapped. “She’s not a demoness, you fool,” the cat said directly to Vincent. Celeste turned her head around, frowning at Vincent. “You don’t actually think that’s a possibility, do you? Because she’s certainly not a demoness. She’s human. And while it’s curious that she has a restriction, I’m not entirely sure that it’s going to be particularly problematic for her.” She scratched her chin. “Problematic? It means there’s something hidden in her body.” “Correct. But I can only repeat that she’s not a demoness. She’s not a vampire, either, and she’s certainly not an angel. She’s not one of the races for which such a thing would be bad.” “So does that mean the restriction is hiding her true power?” Bates tried hopefully, proving he followed this conversation even though everything was new to him. Celeste made a face. “I doubt it.” Vincent reeled his shock in. Slowly but surely, he gathered his strength like somebody grabbing the reins of a horse. “So what do you think is hidden in her body?”

“I don’t know. But it’s certainly something we should monitor. I have to go back to the fact I doubt it’s dangerous.” “But that fact is your intuition. It is not ed by evidence.” Vincent had a good working relationship with Celeste. And one reason he did was he didn’t question her expertise. He couldn’t control himself right now. His nerves kept winning. As they raced through his stomach, they reached his spine and clawed up his back. When they hit his hindbrain, who knew what they would do? What had started out as a simple day had twisted and morphed. Now he had a demon leaf in his pocket, a human woman with a restriction, and a peeved doctor staring him down like a cocked gun. Celeste placed her hands on her hips, one after the other, her fingers tapping against her white coat. “I don’t need you to question me, Vincent. You don’t need to waste your breath. She’s fine. She’s alive. She is a stronger practitioner than she looks, and she has a restriction, but I wouldn’t let it worry you. Those are the only things you need to know. If you’re serious about marrying her, however, recognize that while she knows how to use her meager magic well, she will need further training to fight in the tournament.” “Of what do you speak?” the familiar snarled. But the familiar was the least of Vincent’s problems. Mary had woken, just like that. It was as if someone had reached in, flicked a switch in her mind, and turned her consciousness up to full. She blinked right there, right at Vincent. “Marry?” Vincent had intended to have this conversation all day. It was one he’d had many times in his life. It wasn’t serious for him. Marriage was just a word. But as Mary looked at him, his cheeks tightened. “I’ll leave you two to it. I trust that you’ll be able to faithfully let your mistress know what has occurred,” Celeste asked the familiar. He dropped his gaze respectfully. “Yes. Every word.” “Very well. If you have questions,” Celeste nodded at Mary, “I’m on call.” She

walked out of the room. Mary didn’t look at anyone save for Vincent. Her lips scrunched down. “What was she talking about before?” “The boss is a good guy, but he—” Bates began when Vincent became deadly silent. Had Vincent forgotten how to speak? Too much had happened. When he’d first found out that Mary could fight, everything had seemed so logical. His brain had clutched at the solution he needed – the same solution that would keep him alive come this Friday. Now? A void opened in his head. The cat jumped up onto the bed. He nuzzled Mary’s hand. “Much has occurred, Mistress. You have a restriction in your body. I will explain everything to you. But I suggest we leave the hospital and return home.” “We? You belong to a client—” “As I attempted to explain to you in the car, I will sever that relationship. I have already sent a magical communication to the familiar council. They will go through the process for me. I am now your dedicated familiar. You can name me. I suggest you do so soon.” Mary waved her hands around. Vincent wanted to stop her, but Celeste had already said that Mary was fine. Still, his eyes darted over her body. She might not be covered in blood anymore, but…. But indeed. Every new fact he found out about her didn’t answer his questions, or rather, didn’t go any way to solving his curiosity. It only made it burn brighter. Now she was awake, the visual representation of her restriction had disappeared. He couldn’t deny what he’d seen, though. Even now, he could bring up a perfect image of it. He’d seen restrictions before. Mary’s was unnecessarily complicated.

What could her body be hiding? Mary pushed up. She frowned at the cat. “But I already received a down payment to find you.” “How much?” the cat asked. Mary scratched her neck. “20 bucks.” There was silence. The familiar twitched. “Such a small sum? Do tell me that was only a partial payment.” “It was 50 percent,” Mary said. The cat swished his tail. “My previous mistress was inappropriate indeed. I will sever the contract. Now, please, name me.” He bowed. Mary shook her head. “I’m just a level I witch. How on earth could I get away with having a familiar?” “I have chosen you. Please do not question your power. You do not know what you are capable of.” Vincent cleared his throat, not because he didn’t want anyone telling Mary what she was. He couldn’t stand in the way of someone finding out information about their medical condition. But Mary didn’t like her power being discussed. And whenever it was discussed, she became progressively more defensive. Even now, he watched her skin becoming clammy. “The familiar is yours now, Mary. As he says, he’s chosen you. You should name him,” Vincent interrupted her deliberately. Mary blinked. “But… I can’t think of a name. Name yourself,” she spluttered. “Wait, this is crazy. I don’t have the requisite magic to look after a familiar.” “I assure you, I am self-sufficient. I will find my own magical snacks. As for a name, it is tradition to name your familiar.”

“But I can’t think of a name for a cat. My first cat was called Paws – will that do?” The familiar showed his teeth. Vincent had just met the little guy, but it was a clear sign he wasn’t pleased. “A somewhat undignified name for a powerful familiar such as myself.” Mary scratched her brow. “Theodore, then?” “That seems to be a dignified name—” the familiar began. “Pick another,” Vincent snapped. “What?” Mary questioned. “Theodore is a name with… an unfortunate history in this town. Pick another.” Mary scratched her head again. “Frederick?” The cat glanced from left to right. Then he nodded once. “Frederick it is.” He placed a paw on his chest. Magic alighted over his claws and sank into his fur. The pattern changed. He didn’t write his new name across his body, but a long orange line appeared over his back from his head down to the tip of his tail. It would tell anybody he was a taken familiar. “Frederick it is. It is a pleasure having met you, my mistress, and I promise I will always serve you well.” Mary looked confused but nodded. Then she glanced up at Vincent of all people. Did she think he could provide her with answers? The only thing he could do was stand here and reel. In the back of his head, he realized two things. He had to investigate the demon tree near the Devil seal. And time was ticking before Friday. “You should propose,” Bates mouthed as he looked down at Vincent’s pocket pointedly. Vincent’s hand was already in his pocket, but he didn’t pull out the ring. “You probably have a lot of questions.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “Do you think those three other demons are gonna come back?” “They can’t break the seal.” “Oh.” Was that it, just oh? Or was this where she should splutter her questions out like she had in the car? Or had she been far more interested in the story of Vincent and his ex-wife Amy than the fact demons had almost killed her? Ghost demons that shouldn’t have appeared anywhere in the city, let alone come after her in such numbers. He locked a hand on his face. Before he could slide his fingers down it, Mary went to slip off the bed. “Remain here for a bit,” he counseled her quickly. “Did the doctor say I could go?” His phone rang. Irked at the interruption, he went to ignore it, but then he heard the exact call tone. It was the council. No doubt word of what had happened had spread. Bates shot him a look. Vincent walked out. He closed the door and pressed the phone against his ear. “You will report. The fact you have not reported already is concerning,” a toneless council voice said. Unless the council met fully, communication was anonymous. It meant that if one had prejudices against the council, they wouldn’t use those to potentially threaten the security of the city. If you knew you were talking to someone you didn’t trust, then you might not be as willing to be forthcoming with information. If you didn’t know who you were talking to, nothing would hold your tongue. Vincent repeated the sorry tale. There was one detail he left out – Mary’s

restriction. He had no reason to omit that from his story. It was important information, but when it came time to share it, his lips froze. He told himself it wasn’t his story to share and that it couldn’t be that significant after all. For she was still just a human. The whole while, his gaze swiveled to the side, and he stared at the closed door, feeling Mary within. Vincent had started off this week looking for a new wife. He was about to find so much more.

15

Mary

Mary sat there on the edge of the bed. She was glad Vincent had left. Don’t get her wrong – he had a certain calming presence about him. Though that was the wrong word. Activating was a better one. She didn’t need that right now. She wanted answers. She clamped her hands on her knees. Frederick sat beside her. Bates was off by the door. Though his stance came off as casual, the look in his eyes made it clear he was protecting her. “So let me get this right. There’s a restriction in my body?” She flattened a hand down her chest. She kept doing that. She didn’t know why. What? Did she think that if she rubbed under the surface a little, this restriction would pop out? It wouldn’t. She’d heard of restrictions before. Her magical education was far more thorough than an ordinary person’s. Because ordinary people hadn’t had such intense aunts. She still frowned at the news. “I’ve never heard of a human with a restriction. What exactly is restricted in my body?” She’d already asked this question. Bates patiently answered with a smile on his lips. “We’re not sure. It shouldn’t be dangerous, though. You’ll be fine. The boss will look after you,” he promised with another quick grin. Mary might be oblivious most of the time. Most of the time she was too busy to stop and put up with other people’s troubles. But judging by that look in his eyes, she needed to pay attention. This wasn’t someone else’s trouble; it was entirely hers. She angled toward the edge of the bed again. This quick, flighty pressure built in her chest. It made it feel as if she’d swallowed darting birds. “Why do you keep saying that as if I’ll have something more to do with Vincent? Once this contract

is done, we will go our separate ways.” “That’s gonna be up to you, Mary.” “Ha? When I woke, the doctor mentioned something about marriage, didn’t she? About a tournament, too,” Mary said, her voice far more interested in the last bit. That wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned the word tournament. Amy had when Mary had overheard a conversation in her car. All the while, that fact had been ticking along in the back of Mary’s head. Whenever Mary learned intriguing facts, she could never let go of them. Some part of her mind would absorb them and start working on them, even if the rest of her wasn’t conscious of that process. Bates had been soft, almost malleable before, but now he hardened like setting steel. “I really shouldn’t be the one to explain that bit to you.” The door opened. Then Vincent walked back in. He had a distracted look. She could tell why. He’d just been on the phone to the council. She’d been keeping half an ear on him. He’d faithfully told them about what had happened, but he’d left one thing out. “Why didn’t you tell the council about my restriction? Celeste said it was important information for a councilmember.” Vincent was halfway through pushing his phone back into his pocket. His fingers froze. “What? You… overheard me through the door?” Bates looked alarmed. She shrugged. “Yep. If you hadn’t wanted the conversation to be public—” Vincent spread a shaking hand. “I’m not… angry, just surprised. As for your question.” He looked to the side. Vincent gave you the impression of someone who always knew his mind. He was also capable of being decisive. When he had to share information, he did so in a clipped, quick tone. Now? Now he wouldn’t take his eyes off the wall.

“Smart,” Frederick said. “I wouldn’t trust the council either. I might’ve only been a familiar for a short amount of time, but when I was wandering the streets after I ran from my first witch, I heard things. Dark things. This city is on its way down to Hell. The council is hardly stopping it.” Vincent straightened. “The council is doing everything it can—” Mary swung her legs back and forth, frowning at him. “What is all this stuff about a tournament?” She could no longer dart around that fact anymore. It was at the heart of everything. Vincent wouldn’t look at her. It was all the information she needed to conclude that whatever this tournament was, it was paramount. Mary was tired. Her body felt like gods had beaten her. Her muscles shook, even as she sat there. But that didn’t stop her from slipping off the bed, both shoes landing with thumps on the polished floor. Vincent’s eyes widened with alarm. Did he think she would break? It would take a heck of a lot more to destroy her. He took a jerked step toward her, then froze. He stared at his hand emptily. “What’s this about a tournament, Vincent? It’s the key to what’s happening, isn’t it? I heard your ex-wife repeating it. Then there was that fact about training on the twentieth platform of the subway. Everybody keeps mentioning this, but I’ve never heard of a tournament. Is this some kind of vampire game?” “It is… not just a vampire game. Though it unforgivably started with us.” He stared right at the wall. He didn’t make a move to look at her. Didn’t even make a move to unstick his gaze. It looked as if he would stare at that wall forevermore. “What is it?” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the bed. She tried to look strong, but she knew her inherent limitations. She couldn’t stand in front of him unassisted. So leaning casually was all she could muster. She at least narrowed her eyes. “Many years ago,” Vincent said, pinching the bridge of his nose and hiding

behind his hand, “it was found that Bridgetown had thin space.” “You mean it’s closer to Hell? I think every single person in Bridgetown knows that, though perhaps not consciously. Is that why there was that Devil seal?” “Yes.” “What’s this got to do with games?” “The Devil seals… they require… blood sacrifices.” Alarm sprang through Mary. All she could think of was poor people having their throats slit. “Excuse me?” Vincent opened his hands. “In the early days, Bridgetown was the location of many deadly battles.” “Get back to the bit about sacrifices. Are you telling me—” “The tournament was invented to ensure the Devil gates got their sacrifices without anyone having to be killed.” “So what exactly are you saying? That there are blood sports in Bridgetown? And they’re some kind of sacrifice for the Devil himself? “Essentially yes. But nobody dies. The tournament has restrictions.” She narrowed her eyes at him. She got the impression that even though he said that, he didn’t believe it. Bates cleared his throat. “This has nothing to do with Vincent. He just has to play the game, that’s all. All of the ancient families in Bridgetown do.” “Surely there’s some other way?” Vincent looked down at his feet. “If there was another way, my family would’ve found it by now. But despite trying, we have not.” Mary had to remind herself of something – a fact every single person in Bridgetown knew. While the other ancestral vampire families were massive, Vincent’s wasn’t. He was alone. He was the final Flagstaff. If you thought that

would cause comion to flutter through her heart, it was beset by another wave of confusion. “How long has this been going on for?” “Decades.” “And you’re telling me… what, you’ve been fighting in this tournament all that time?” Vincent shook his head. He paid too much attention to her while he did it. His eyes grew wide as if they couldn’t dare miss a thing. This might’ve been her imagination, but he also locked his vampire attention on her. His roving senses tried to pick up her every reaction, no matter how minute. She didn’t hide them. She uncrossed her arms. “Vincent?” “For certain reasons,” he couldn’t look at her again and chose instead to stare at his feet, “I personally cannot fight in the tournament. Only family can.” She didn’t have to think hard. She’d already brought this fact up seconds ago. “You don’t have a family. You’re alone, aren’t you? I suppose you had your exwife, but now you’re divorced.” Bates and Vincent became perilously quiet. Mary wasn’t oblivious to it. She frowned. “What’s this got to do with your exwife?” “I… unfortunately only once married somebody I… had a connection to.” Every word slowed down, jolting out of his mouth like his lips had become a metal chute. “Sorry?” Her stomach kicked. “I cannot fight in the tournament. Only a family member can. And the only way I can acquire a family member is… through marriage.” Mary’s eyes widened. Things clicked into place. And it was a crazy conclusion. “You… are telling me that everybody you marry… fights for you in the tournament?”

“Yes.” You know that thing Mary didn’t want to think about? The thing she’d overheard? She thought about it. The doctor’s words reverberated in her head. So too did the fact Vincent kept playing with a wedding ring in his pocket. And yeah, she knew it was there. She looked at his pocket and shook her head. “You’re not….” He slowly pulled the ring out of his pocket. His attention was wrong. If this was just a transactional experience for him – if he just wanted someone to fight in some glorified tournament for him – he wouldn’t be holding it with such a stiff grip. Nor would his expression be so open and vulnerable. “I know this is a lot to take in, but—” “My mistress has no interest in marrying you,” Frederick said. He sat up on the medical bed and flashed his tail. He snarled at Vincent. He was a brand-new familiar, but he would’ve quickly learned the ropes of Bridgetown. He’d already claimed he’d been in with the familiar council. But he had no fear of Vincent, despite Vincent’s position. “Just let the boss finish saying what he has to say,” Bates growled. “We do not wish to listen. My mistress has had a fraught day. We will return home.” Frederick jumped off the bed. Mary almost went to slip in behind him but froze. She still stared at Vincent’s ring. She’d had one heck of a weird week. What with fighting demons and being attacked at the police station, she hadn’t found any downtime. Now her brain took it upon itself to just shut down. She thought she could hear it whirring like an engine about to die. This empty rushing picked up in her head, too. Vincent held the ring out to her.

When she didn’t jolt toward it, and rather backed off, he closed his fingers around it with a twitch. “I don’t mean to suggest…” he couldn’t finish his sentence. “You don’t mean to suggest what?” “Please understand that this is… nothing more than an act to protect the city.” “… Oh.” Silence spread between them again. Frederick twitched his tail. Bates? He just gazed at Mary pleadingly. Vincent? He still wouldn’t look at her at all. Mary had faced so much over the past several days. It was pointless catag it all. But it was worthwhile to point out she had faced enough that she shouldn’t be this frightfully nervous. But trust her, tension now wrapped around her body, and her heart beat twice as fast as it had when she’d been fighting that ghost demon. She looked at the ring then back at Vincent. She went to shake her head, but his words reverberated in her mind. “What’s this got to do with protecting the city?” Vincent’s eyes widened. “If… if I fail to produce a wife to fight for me,” he said, barely pushing the word wife out of white lips, “I will be forced to fight in the ring myself.” She shrugged. “Is that so bad? You’re a powerful vampire, right? You dispatched a ghost demon today.” He really wouldn’t look at her now. Bates stiffened, his shoulders marching up toward his ears. He got this look in his gaze as he stared at his boss – the kind of look you got when you were worried the person in front of you was about to crumble away into nothingness. “I have a considerable number of enemies, not just in this town, but below it,”

Vincent mumbled. “You mean the Devil?” Vincent’s gaze flashed. Real emotion flashed there. This wasn’t just some game to him. Mary was almost cowed by how ferocious his feelings became. She wasn’t always someone with great EQ. But even a brick wall would pick up on Vincent’s feelings. They were electric. “Yes, the Devil and more. This town… it’s going to Hell. And the council… though I have attempted to steer it on the correct course, of late it has been steered away despite my best efforts.” “Four years ago,” Mary said, repeating a conclusion she’d made multiple times, “something changed in Bridgetown, didn’t it?” Vincent blinked back his surprise. Then the slightest smile parted his lips. “You’re quite intelligent, Mary.” “More intelligent than I look?” She arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say that,” he whispered. He was silent for a few seconds. “Correct. Four years ago, Theodore Winchester moved into Bridgetown.” Now Vincent wouldn’t look at her for a different reason. He stared at the wall, his gaze cold and dead. You wouldn’t need to strap electrodes up to Vincent to know he spoke of something that filled him with cold dread and anger. She could see it marching up his cheeks, crinkling his brow, and making his skin even whiter. “I think I’ve heard of him. Doesn’t he own a lot of clubs or something?” “He has fingers in many pies. Including the council. He is a councilmember, though that is not information you should spread.” She nodded. “Is he one reason Hell is getting closer?” “Indeed he is.” “Can’t you tell the rest of the council?”

“He has befriended the rest of the council. And I am sorry to say that… of late they have been going back on their sacred duty to protect this city.” “So let me get this straight.” Her voice didn’t even shake. “You need somebody to fight in this tournament for you, to appease the Hell gates, and to ensure you’re not pulled into the tournament yourself. Because if you are, you’ll be defeated, and then this town really will go to Hell?” It took a while, but Vincent nodded. His neck was so stiff, she could see every single muscle contracting like tightly clenched fists. Mary had woken up knowing today would be bad. She’d had a splitting headache, and it was only just abating. Now she had something else wrong with her. Not the kind of thing you could take a drug to easily fix, though. A question loomed in her head, one that could control the rest of her life. “Isn’t… there some other way?” Vincent had opened his hand again, the ring glinting under the lights above. Now he closed his fingers around it one by one. He silently pressed it into his pocket. “Of course there’s another way. And I’ll find it.” He went to turn. Mary twitched a finger toward him. Then she let it drop. Vincent made it to the door. Bates watched him, his disappointment clear. He swiveled his gaze back to Mary. This, presumably, was where she should rush forward, accept the ring, and take on the responsibility of helping Vincent to protect this city. She just couldn’t. For more reasons than one. She was a level I witch, darn it. She’d also just learned she had a restriction in her body. She had inherent weaknesses. Vincent needed someone strong to fight in this tournament, especially if it was so important. Plus… the ring he held… it looked pretty darn heavy. He paused at the door again, Bates slipping into step behind him.

Vincent angled his head toward Mary. It was her turn to drop his gaze. “Please stay here for a while. Celeste didn’t expressly say that you could leave. You have undergone a considerable ordeal. You should also talk to her about your restriction. Thank you… thank you for your assistance.” He opened the door. “Hold on.” Mary stretched a hand toward him. He froze – froze in a way Mary would never forget. Froze as if someone had pressed pause, not just on him, but on the rest of her life. And what was the rest of her life? She wasn’t being down on herself here, but she knew her job, and while she was ionate about it, it wasn’t important. She found cats. She reunited little old ladies with lost puppies. She occasionally accidentally caught bounties. She didn’t keep anyone safe. But…. But she knew her limitations, darn it, and she’d never forget that. Vincent looked at her hopefully. “Aren’t I still contracted to you? Don’t I still have to find evidence that your wife was the one who attacked me?” “Ex-wife,” he corrected with quick but cold movements of his lips. “Yeah… your ex-wife.” She looked anywhere but at him. “I will cancel the—” “You can’t cancel the contract. You do that, and it will affect your magic. And by the sounds of it, it’s important to the city that you aren’t harmed. I’ll find information—”

“I do not want you needlessly putting yourself into danger.” He meant that, didn’t he? As Mary faced him, her gaze darting over his, she looked for any sign he was lying. He was not. She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “I’ll be careful and discreet.” “Please do not bother. I will have the contract canceled.” “I want my $450,” Mary said. She spluttered it a little too loudly. Vincent reached straight into his pocket. She shook her hands. “Not what I meant. I took this case. And I come from Mary Lou’s Detective Agency,” she slapped a hand on her chest, “no case too big or small.” He made eye with her – the kind that felt like it would never leave. They could walk away. They could lead separate lives. But they could never wipe away this moment. “I see. Please come to me if you find anything out.” With that, he walked away.

16

Mary

She wanted to leave. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to go, however. She wanted to deny the fact she was still injured, but she couldn’t do that. She was weary. She kept rubbing her chest, too, even though she hadn’t received a significant injury there. She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs swinging in and out. Frederick lay beside her, licking his paws. “You made the correct decision. I do not think it is a wise idea for you to connect yourself with the Flagstaff family. They are inherently unlucky.” She just looked at Frederick. She didn’t know if he was being protective or just negative. Or Hell, maybe he was telling the truth. As the Flagstaff family sure were inherently unlucky. Mary could confirm that, because right now she looked information up on her phone. She thought she’d known everything about Vincent. She hadn’t. She hadn’t appreciated how many times he’d been married, for one. 10 times. She even obsessively checked every single marriage photo. For nine of his wives, he hadn’t smiled. With his first wife? He’d looked over the moon. Worse? Her name had been Mary. But make no mistake, there was no resemblance between the two of them. Vincent’s first wife had looked so elegant, it was as if she’d walked out of the pages of a fairytale. Mary? She wouldn’t bother comparing herself. She said that multiple times, so why was she still looking things up on her phone?

“You should at least try to lie down,” Frederick said. “I don’t need to lie down. I want to look this up.” “Why? Once you have fulfilled your contract, you will have nothing further to do with Vincent.” “But….” Frederick turned on her. “But?” Mary couldn’t fill that in. But, indeed. But she couldn’t quite put to rest the way Vincent had looked at her. But she even now could see the way he’d been playing with that ring. But she couldn’t ignore everything he’d told her. There was a tournament in town, blood sports for the Devil gates. It sounded like the atrocious plot from some magical film. But it wasn’t. It was real. And Mary had turned her back on it. She thought that then shook her head. Her aunt had told her two things. Two lessons above all others. Know your limitations, but never back down from a fight. Yeah, Mary had always appreciated that those were contradictory statements. But Mary couldn’t fight for Vincent in the arena. She just wasn’t strong enough, right? “I suggest you stop obsessing over this,” Frederick said, flashing his tail close to Mary’s phone, the soft fur sliding over the screen. “Hey. I’m looking at that.” “It appears to be a wedding photo between Vincent and his first wife, Mary. You have been staring at it for the past five minutes. I suggest you now know all of the information you need to. You should rest. You should think of reasons why you have a restriction in your body.” She frowned at him. He was right. Of all the information she’d found out today, that was by far the most pertinent. She’d already questioned Celeste. The competent doctor had confirmed she’d never heard of another case of a human

with restrictions. Restrictions were not fun and games. If a demon had a restriction, it was usually to hide its true demon power. If an angel had a restriction, it was usually to hide the true extent of their light. When a vampire had a restriction, it often hid their devilish side. So what the heck could a restriction hide in a human? Mary’s soft heart? It wasn’t even that funny a joke. Hell, it wasn’t even a joke. It was just a question. The first of many. Celeste had no clue, and though Mary liked to think she could control her imagination most of the time, now it took her on a whirlwind journey. She patted her chest for about the tenth time. “Patting your chest will not release the restriction. Search your family records to see if there is any information on what you are.” “There isn’t. I don’t have any family records.” “Any family —” “My parents died when I was young. I don’t have an extended family. And my aunt….” “Indeed, your aunt was one of the most powerful sorceresses to have ever blessed this city. Perhaps you should start there.” Mary settled the phone down. “Millicent would’ve told me if she knew I had a restriction.” “So what are you suggesting? That you obtained said restriction later in life?” Mary opened her mouth. She might not know too much about restrictions, but she appreciated that was highly unlikely. She would’ve been born with it. She closed her lips. She went to shake her head, but she didn’t know what she shook her head at.

“I suggest that you no longer treat Vincent as a distraction. You did the right thing. You two are incompatible.” “He wasn’t actually asking to marry me. This is all about the tournament,” Mary said way too defensively. “Indeed.” Frederick jumped off the bed. “While it is wise for you to stay here for a little longer, please put me to work.” He nodded. “Ha?” “I’m fully capable of roving around the town and attempting to find out more information about your condition. Where do you suggest I go?” Mary just looked at him. She’d never had help like this before. She didn’t know what to do with him. A fact that became clear as Frederick flashed his tail once more. “Where do you suggest I begin to look for information? Your aunt owned an orphanage, did she not?” “She ran it,” Mary corrected. “But I really don’t think there’s gonna be—” “I will go there first.” He snapped a salute. Then he shot her a serious look. “I expect you to look after yourself, rest, and not obsess over Vincent. Let him lead his life. You have your own mysteries to settle.” Frederick jumped out of the door. Mary frowned at him. She looked down at her phone. She went to place it beside her but got stuck looking at Vincent’s wedding photos again. This was… just way too much to process. There was a tournament that protected Bridgetown from Hell. She just kept repeating that, over and over in her head. What had happened to Vincent’s ex-wives? Had they all just got sick of fighting for him? No. She went back to the memory of Amy. Amy had sounded as if she’d started working for someone else.

Could Mary wrap her head around that? She’d never intended to get married herself, but she appreciated that most people did it for love. She couldn’t have imagined that vampires in this town might do it for a totally different reason. She knew she wasn’t thinking coherently. She slid off the bed. She walked back and forth. She stared at her phone on the bed then shook her head. “Frederick’s right. I need to be way more concerned about the fact I have a restriction.” She flattened a hand on her stomach and walked towards her phone. She plucked it up. But she’d already looked up everything she could on Vincent. What more was there to search for? “You did the right thing,” she repeated to herself emptily. Her tone had a hollow ring. She slid her phone into her pocket. She just stood there. She stared at the bed. She didn’t want to sit. Her body begged her to move. She swung her gaze over to the door. “I’ll just take a walk.” She reached it and strayed out. She half expected Vincent to be there. He’d growl at her and point to the room, telling her to rest, telling her she shouldn’t take chances. He wasn’t there. Because… they’d parted ways. Mary had the contract with him, but it was clear he didn’t expect she would fulfill it. Apart from that? Why, they were essentially now strangers. She didn’t know how she felt about that as she crammed her hands into her pockets and walked down the empty hospital hall. Her rational brain told her that all she should think was that this was a good thing. Mary valued a quiet life, right? Possibly, but quiet lives didn’t value her. She didn’t know where she walked to. She just didn’t want to stay still. She took a meandering path through the hospital. She was usually pretty good with her sense of direction, but as she turned down a darkened corridor, she realized she didn’t know where she was and had even less of an idea how to get back. She turned on her sandshoe, intending to return, but she heard something.

Had it been a scream? Her instincts didn’t reach a fever pitch. This was a hospital. People were in pain. It could’ve been a psychiatric patient. But then she heard the scream again. She realized something wasn’t right. It was distant. Yet it also wasn’t that far from her. She wasn’t trying to say it echoed strangely and she didn’t know which direction it came from. It just… it didn’t seem to feel right. She teetered there, rocking back on her shoes, then turned back toward the scream. She pulled her hands out of her pockets uneasily. She clenched one hand into a light fist. “Hello? Who’s screaming?” She walked past an open door. She stared into a room, but it was empty. Her gut kicked. She knew enough about hospitals to realize they rarely had empty rooms. Let alone empty wings. But that’s what this was. She walked to another door. There were hospital beds and equipment. But she couldn’t find a single person. “Hello?” she now called in a louder, clearer, far more insistent voice. Nobody answered. Both of her hands clenched into fists now. Her shoes squeaked as she threw herself forward. She checked five more doors. Every room was empty. Worse, none of them felt as if they’d been occupied recently. Maybe it was a stretch, and maybe she was attempting to rely on magic she didn’t have, but her intuition told her that this wing had never been occupied. So why was all the medical equipment on? “This is not right.” She plucked her phone out of her pocket. She went to call Vincent. She stopped for two obvious reasons. She didn’t have his number, and she didn’t have a connection to him anymore. It took her too long to realize she could call the police instead – and should.

She went to dial the number, but then she heard a shriek right behind her. Mary spun so quickly, she fell on her ass. But there was nothing there. Her eyes widened, gaze darting from left to right. She used a little magic to discern where that scream had come from, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing there. “Definitely calling the cops now.” Her thumb went to slide across her phone’s screen, but it was yanked out of her grip. She spun once more. The phone disappeared, but there was still no sign there was anybody here. She backed off. She crossed her arms in front of herself. Her gaze kept darting back and forth, up and down, like a crazy metronome that couldn’t keep the beat of a frantic song. It sure couldn’t keep up with her heart. As it pounded harder and harder, it reverberated up her clenched teeth into her jaw with the power to turn diamonds to dust. “Who’s out there?” Mary now hissed. Gone was the innocent question. This was a demand. She crossed her arms tighter over her chest. She kept twisting around on the spot, never keeping her back in one direction for too long. Finally it paid off, and she saw just the faintest spark of magic to her left. She spun, but she was smart enough not to head directly toward it. Whatever it was, it wanted to keep itself hidden. If it found out she was onto it, it would disappear again. So she jerked not too far to the other side. It meant she could see it out of her peripheral vision. It moved with intelligent movements. Mary tuned in to it with her magical senses, and meager as they were, at least they told her that whatever that magical spark was, it hadn’t revealed itself in full. It used but a fraction of its complete force. When it used the full thing…. Mary backed off again, crossing her arms until it felt like she’d never pluck them from her chest. She readied her magic, for what good it was. But think of that, and all she could do was focus on the fact there was a restriction in her body somewhere. She’d never paid too much attention to her chest, but now she did, her focus deviating off this dangerous scene too long as she wondered just where the restriction was and who’d put it there. Worse, how had she never felt it before? Yeah, yeah, she was a weak witch. But why hadn’t her senses detected something wasn’t right with her body? This was no time to think those thoughts. It was, however, time to duck.

Something sliced past her cheek. It nicked her flesh. A long line of blood splattered out and marked the wall. It remained, for about half a second – then it disappeared. Mary’s eyes widened. She couldn’t feel magic. But make no mistake, her blood had been let. Something had spirited it away. She hissed between clenched teeth. “Whatever is out there, I warn you, I’m no pushover.” Easy enough to say – but hard to say in a voice that didn’t crack with real fear. The spell didn’t announce itself. Another bolt of magic sliced past her face. She attempted to draw her hands up and protect herself, but she just wasn’t fast enough. This one nicked her ear. It was a much deeper cut. Blood splattered out on the floor, too. She was closer to it, so she watched in wide-eyed wonder as it disappeared. Though was it more accurate to say it was hidden? She stared at the corridor with renewed attention. Her gaze focused, every sense coming online until it felt like humming machinery had replaced her brain. There were several ways you could get rid of something. You could spirit it away with a transport spell. That involved strong magic, and it usually left enough residue for even a witch like Mary to recognize. But you could also just hide something. If the spell itself was strong, it would be pretty hard for an unskilled practitioner to recognize. Mary brought her foot up. She used a tiny charge of magic. She let it build up in the toe of her shoe. Then she smashed it down. She wasn’t attempting to dig through the floor in the hopes she could fall to another level and run away. This was just an experiment. Sure enough, she marked the floor, but not for long. The mark soon disappeared. This was strong appearance magic. This was a version of the hospital, but not the real thing. It was like she’d wandered into a holographic recreation of it. “Crap, crap, crap,” she said, violating her rule and swearing. Trust her, you would violate most of your morals in a situation like this, too. Her eyes widened. Then magic sliced at her from all angles. Mary crumpled and screamed. She tried to make a smaller target of herself, tried

to draw her arms up around her middle and nuzzle against them, but it didn’t matter. The magic spiraled around her in a vortex of pure destruction. It cut her arms, cut her cheeks, cut her chest too. Now she was aware of the restriction, she could feel it, feel it like a cold hole down to Hell. Its cold promise allowed her to shove up, bolster her shoulder, and push against the spell. It was strong enough that if she just lay there, trying to protect herself, it would simply cut her through. The only path out of here was to carve herself one. Grunting, she shoved into the spell harder. If she was in a manufactured version of the hospital, she had to break the spell. It would be the same reason why she couldn’t see what was attacking her. It would currently occupy the real space allotted for the actual hospital. She could attack all she wanted. She could dodge too. She could use her almost insignificant magic. But it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t be interacting with the real attacker. Unless she did something bold. Roaring now, Mary shoved to the side. She spun out with a twisting kick. She forced it low and brought it around in a sweeping circle. It was more of a test than anything else. She struck nothing. Nothing resisted her foot, either. And the spell didn’t even crackle. She planted her hands down, and she did it again, this time leaping into the air, kicking around in a higher arc. Once more, she didn’t encounter any resistance. So she did it one final time. She had to thank her aunt for giving her such extensive agility training. It meant that Mary didn’t need to waste her magic whenever she became athletic. For most other practitioners, they didn’t pay as much attention to their body as their mind and magic. That meant that when they had to get physical, they wasted important force in doing so. Mary didn’t even use a single spark of magic – just muscles and pure grit. As she kicked one last time, she encountered something. It was just a little mote of resistance, if you will – a section where the wind didn’t move properly. It was like encountering a tiny patch of honey on a benchtop. You might not see it, but drag your finger over it, and you’ll detect it. But the thing about sticky substances is you can make them visible if you attach something to them.

Mary lurched down to the floor. She kicked it once more. But this time, she didn’t let the appearance spell wipe away her damage. She shoved her fist down and grabbed a chunk of the concrete. It tried to disappear from her fingers, but now she turned her magic on, using way more than she had in a long time. She kept hold of the dust. Then she returned to where her foot had stuck. She threw the dust out in an arc. She saw something – a tiny spark like a firefly had just given birth to itself. Mary’s eyes narrowed, her teeth clenched, and she jolted forward once more. She rounded her shoulder, and she darn well roared. It was the same spark she’d seen before, but this time it was permanent. She watched as it attempted to disappear from her, but as a few charges of magic raced across it, it didn’t go anywhere. Sure, Mary may have a target now, but the question was did she have the magic to do anything about it? Grunting, she shot toward it again, but it disappeared, reappearing right behind her. As it moved, it left little patches of the corridor visible – the real one underneath this fake one. Problem was, it wasn’t her corridor. Mary had assumed that this magic was simply cast on a real section of the hospital. She wouldn’t be so lucky as to have handy doctors and staff around to call for help. She appeared to be in some long, dark basement. Water even dripped down the walls. She curled her lips together and went to curse but thought better of it, a blast of her training rising just at the right moment. The spark came at her from behind. Mary’s keen senses were aware of it, and she knew just when to roll. Rounding her shoulders, she flattened herself backward and shot to her feet. She moved with all the grace and expertise of a gymnast – one combined with a deadly warrior. With a grunt, Mary turned. The spark continued to flicker there, just a few centimeters from her. But flickering wasn’t all it had planned. With a jolt, great electric lightning bolts of power blasted out of it. Mary might be close, but she was just quick enough to react. Rolling to the side, she punched up, then leaped right over one. The bolts continued to discharge,

only becoming more ferocious by the second. Mary understood she had a limited amount of time to get this done. For one, she had no clue where she was. For another, she would run out of power at some point. That point would come pretty soon, considering how much energy she’d been forced to use already today. There was another reason Mary needed to get this done. She had to warn Vincent. And yeah, she’d just thought that, even though not that long ago, she’d been planning to have nothing to do with him for the rest of her life. If he really was the only force interested in protecting the city, however, he had to know that… what? A nefarious spark with the ability to hide its true location was darting around the hospital? Who the heck was behind this and why? Mary roared and jumped again. This time her shoes slipped. She could see more of the true basement around her, but not the entire thing, and the appearance spell concealed what was there just at the wrong moment. Mary hurtled backward. But before she could crash into the floor and smash her skull against the chipped, wet concrete, somebody caught her. Two powerful arms wrapped around her back, and her head banged up against a chiseled chest. She felt her cheeks ruffling expensive, smooth Italian cotton. Her treacherous darn heart told her it was Vincent. But then she jerked her head back. She couldn’t see a face at all. Someone was wearing a hood. A magical one. She could see the outline of it – the crackling power, the licks of flame – but not the features of the person beyond. Vincent would have no reason to hide his identity. “What—” she began. Don’t ask her how, but she knew the person under the hood smiled – that kind of thin-lipped, quick twitching movement you get when you’re half amused, half angry. The guy shoved her forward, right in the small of her back. “Let’s see what you can really do.” She skidded on her shoes. Lord knows what substance was underneath her, but whatever it was, it wasn’t just treacherously slippery – it was viscous, too. What,

was it pond scum or ethereal goo? She made the mistake of placing a hand down into it, and a quick shiver raced up her spine. It was cold – not just to touch, but a frigid chill raced through her body, sank into her muscles, and tried to convince her not to move at just the wrong moment. For trust her, that spark was still out there, causing mayhem. The man in the hood disappeared – though not completely. She could still see a faint outline of him against the wall. He brought his arms up, crossed them, then leaned against the old concrete. He watched her so casually, he might as well have had a bowl of popcorn in his hand. “Who the heck are you?” Mary snapped her head toward him. He pointed one magically outlined finger at the spark. “Pay attention. You wouldn’t want to fail, Mary.” Her gut kicked at the fact he knew her name. There was no time to be freaked out by that, though. Not as that spark flickered and morphed. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. Something ed it – maybe excess power, maybe the embodiment of rage. But a second later, it pumped in and out like a heart somebody squeezed with a violent grip. “Oh darn,” Mary hissed. The guy laughed – either at her underwhelming statement, or what was about to happen next. Mary watched as the spark tore itself out of space. It no longer pretended it was in a version of the hospital, and finally that spell broke. But as it did, the considerable magic that’d been assisting it twisted back in on itself. It coalesced in the spark, not wasting a single scrap of force. Mary wasn’t usually one to shudder, but she fell to her knees now, her lips parting in a trembling gape. At first she heard a scream, then the sound of claws. Then she saw both the mouth and the feet that had made such noises. This basement was large – and thankfully had a tall ceiling. Not for her – for the enormous creature that appeared. It was an amalgamation of magic. It was fruitless to describe it. It could be whatever it wanted to be. And right now it had the massive body of a

lion, the tail of a dragon, and the mouth of something Hell-bent on eating everything in its path. It opened said mouth, and rows upon rows of jagged yellow teeth met her. It let out a scream – the kind that could take down any wall, no matter how thick. As for someone’s bones? It would make them break like trees under a meteor. Mary twisted on her foot. She knew when to run. She also knew when to scream, and only the slightest shout ripped from her mouth right now, but that was saying something, considering she usually kept herself perfectly in check when she fought. The guy chuckled. Not once did he move from his comfortable position against the wall. He now had one foot over the other, like he settled in for a long show. Mary got several meters away. She was fast, and maybe the creature didn’t expect her to be so, because it wasted a lot of time scratching its claws on the ground, gnashing its teeth, and roaring. She needed no more convincing that this was a monster worth fleeing from, however. The guy chuckled, deep, sonorous, but not amused. “Running away is never an option in the ring.” She heard the words the ring, then something snagged hold of her ankles. Maybe a little of that appearance spell still functioned, and the force that caught her was hidden, because she didn’t see a single hint of it. But it was effective, and as it wrapped around her ankles, it did so with biting force. Droplets of blood splattered out and marked the concrete beneath her. At least the section she’d run to was free of that goo. That couldn’t be said for the area under the monster. As it put its head down and roared, the shout cracking the ceiling above it, it sloshed forward. Green goo jerked up everywhere. It formed a nasty halo around the creature’s rippling physique. The guy did nothing. Mary doubted he’d abruptly show his good side, click his fingers, get rid of the monster, give her a hand up, and wave her on her way. All he did was incline his neck toward her. She couldn’t see his eyes. That hood still functioned. She could tell that his gaze narrowed in interest. This was just a game to him. One that elicited another low chuckle. She heard it – even felt it in her stomach even though the creature almost reached her. Just before it could pin her with one of its massive sparking claws, the magic

holding her ankles to the spot broke. She shot forward as if she’d been launched from a loaded spring. She rolled right past the monster. Fortunately for her, not only was the ceiling tall, but the monster was longer than it was wider. She could shift past it even in this narrow corridor. But it was a dangerous move. She hadn’t forgotten its dragon tail, and neither had the creature. It whipped it around at the wrong moment. Mary realized she was going to get struck. It was a split-second thing – and her brain, somehow disengaging from the natural flow of time, gave her the chance to think of a plan. She could just take the attack on the chest. Ultimately, she wasn’t in control here. If this guy wanted to kill her, he would, and it was meaningless to play his game. Or she could use just a little charge of magic. She could prove she was no pushover. Even if Mary had decided that now was the time to tap out and let these two monsters do whatever they wanted, her body would never have accepted such a command. Dodging was hardwired into it. She’d done so many drills with her aunt, she could dodge in her sleep if you went to punch her on her pillow. The tail sailed toward Mary’s face. The tiniest spark of magic erupted over her hands. She felt it darting in her fingers, pulsing there as if she’d grabbed hold of a live beating heart. “That’s it,” the guy hissed, the sound easily making it over another earsplitting roar from the monster. Maybe the guy had magically affected his voice. Or perhaps Mary’s senses had locked on him to the detriment of all other noise. It seemed like he was the one in control here. And though the monster might be larger and more of a physical threat, this guy just hadn’t shown his true colors yet. Mary couldn’t catch the tail. She used a single spark of magic – not the force of an entire warlock team. But at least it protected her body as she spun around and smashed into the wall. It gave her all the time she needed to punch a hand forward and grab some concrete dust. While this monster didn’t have real features, its form was based on that of an

actual creature. And nearly all animals with eyes use them for a purpose. Mary didn’t know too many spells – she’d already pointed that out. Binding spells were quite common. She’d used them on perps many times before. Heck, she’d even used them on the occasional wily cat who wanted to escape before she could take it back to its master. You’d think it’d be pointless to bind concrete. But she wanted it to stick together, wanted it to form this impenetrable mask. Which is what it did as it slammed over the creature’s face. She might have blinded it, but it meant she got attacked by the tail – again. It could have gouged a hole through her middle. But her strength met it. So did her natural ability to take a hit. She instinctively knew when to twist, when to lift her hip, when to yield. She used just a few charges of magic and nothing more. She kept the rest for the binding spell. The monster, if it had been paying attention, would have been able to break through the binding spell easily. But in its head, this fight was already over. It just had to rubberstamp it by chopping Mary’s head off. Good luck with that. By the time the bound concrete dust locked over its face, it was way too late. The creature thrashed. Though Mary was pretty darn injured, she rolled on past that tail and put some more distance between them. Now would’ve been a fantastic time to run, but why try? That sanctimonious guy in the hood still stood there, his fingers raised in a clear threat. He wanted Mary to fight. If she turned tail and tried to run, he’d just drag her back with magical chains. She sneered at him, but only with half her attention. With the rest, she heeded the thrashing monster. It didn’t have hands. Or at least it hadn’t had hands. Now it grew a set quickly. To do that, it had to redirect its magic within. That gave Mary all the opportunity she needed. She heard the guy laughing now – this deep, hard, throaty affair. She got the sudden impression that if she flattened a hand on his chest, it would shake like an earthquake. But the only way she would voluntarily touch his chest was to get better balance to punch him in the jaw. Mary shot in. Maybe this was where other practitioners would hold back, figure out how much power they had, and take a breather. Mary would never get an opportunity like this again.

As the creature morphed, the root of its power within became visible. It was like a tiny bundle of nerves right in the center of the thing’s body. It pulsed, in and out, in and out, and it had this almost glorious blue glow as if someone had captured the center of the ocean. Get to it and snap it, and all of this would be over. She knew the guy continued to watch her, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt his gaze roving all over her. He was far better than a camera and scanning equipment. It didn’t feel as if he would miss a single detail. She reached the monster, just as its tail twisted around. It tried to attack her, but she rolled, grabbed it, then twisted on top of it. It was dangerous. As its body changed, parts of it were no longer substantial. As she took a running leap, the tail lost all solidity. Didn’t matter. She reached the thing’s back. She could see the heart of the spell. “Living up to your name, I see,” the guy whispered. He enjoyed this, even chuckled through his words like this was a fantastic movie on TV. But this was real. Mary’s blood splattered across the cracked concrete floor. The injury to her side was real, too. Unless she received proper medical assistance, she’d likely die. But the guy just kept laughing. She needed no more evidence to know he was unhinged. But this was all the evidence she required to realize he was a true monster – way beyond this crackling creature. Speaking of the crackling creature, its back became insubstantial. And Mary took full advantage of that. She dropped right through, and on the way past, opened her hand as wide as she could. She let little sparks of magic collect around her fingers. She made them solid, giving them all the force they’d require to rip through the last defensive energy surrounding the root of the spell. Then she reached it. She wrenched it out. The creature gave a scream, but it was indistinct. It was as if it had just been separated by several layers of reality. By that, she meant it became less real by the moment. She hit the ground, kicked back, and rolled. She couldn’t put too much distance

between her and the now disappearing creature. Her injury was getting the better of her. She didn’t need to dart her gaze down and stare at her side. Her basic senses worked fine. Blood oozed down her hip and splashed onto the floor. She lost the ability to control the muscles around it. Aching numbness pressed through her body. It was contained to her left side for now. But it would march, march on relentlessly until it claimed the whole of her. She blinked, but it was a struggle to open her eyes again. But open them, she did, anyway. The creature gave one last distant scream, then disappeared. Without the core of its magical spell, it simply flitted away. Its body returned to the basic magic that had originally substantiated it. It darted to the left, then the right, then all of it shot back toward the man with his back still pressed against the wall. He opened a hand casually, and the magic swirled around in a vortex above his palm. It shot into his skin, disappearing in long electrifying lines of blue light that looked as if he’d just gladly grabbed hold of a lightning storm. One by one, he closed his fingers around it. Then one by one, he pushed up onto each of his shined shoes. Mary was still down. She had the heart of the spell, for what good it would do her. If the guy had invested his soul into it, that would be a different matter. She could’ve used it as a convenient way to attack him. He clearly wasn’t that stupid. The only thing this root of magic had was a few remaining sparks of force. She closed her fingers around them nonetheless, knowing there must be a way to exploit them. But he didn’t give her the option. Clicking his fingers expressively and allowing them to become sharply visible for a second until they were the realist thing in this dank corridor, the remnants of the spell returned to him. They crackled into his feet and soon disappeared. Then silence flooded in – edgy, forceful, complete. A silence that would gather before someone took their last wheezing, shuddering breath. He took another step toward her, paused, then got down on his knee. “I have to say, you exceeded my expectations.” She gritted her teeth. “You can—” “Please don’t say I can go to Hell. Because trust me, I’ve already been there. It’s not that bad.”

“Jail,” she corrected him. “I have no idea who you are, but I can guarantee there’s a massive bounty out on your head, and I will be the one to drag you in.” He laughed. Every other move had been an act of manipulation. This was genuine. Then he reached forward and settled a hand on her hip. She tried to elbow him out of the way, but she was losing strength. It left her, disappearing onto the floor only for it to disperse through that awful green goo. The green goo… she knelt in it. It might have something to do with the true numbness now marching relentlessly up her chest toward her head. When it reached her hindbrain, it would be lights out – possibly forever. “Hold on, Mary,” he said in that same throaty rumble that reminded her of an embodied earthquake. Not just a tremor – a quake designed to take down a city and crush every building to dust. He clutched her injury harder. She didn’t think she could feel pain anymore. Big mistake. Agony shot through her like hot blasts from a flamethrower. It ricocheted up her spine into her jaw until her teeth reluctantly unclenched and she screamed. He laughed again. “Did you really think we were going to leave you alone? You came to my attention, Mary. And now you will fight for me in the ring.” “… The… tournament?” “I see Vincent already told you. I’m glad you didn’t accept his hand in marriage. Wise. Vincent won’t be alive by the end of the week. If you’d accepted to fight for him, you would have died by his feet. Now you’ll die by mine.” The last thing Mary saw was a magic-encased hand reaching for her chest. As soon as the palm locked over her sternum, a bolt of incapacitating magic sprang through her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she flopped forward. The man wrapped his arms around her and plucked her up. He was right. About one thing at least. She’d die by his feet by the end of the week. As for not accepting Vincent’s hand in marriage, Mary would never live it down. Literally.

17

Mary

She awoke… on a floor. An unadorned one. One that seemed as if it had been carved right out of the center of the earth. One bleary eye blinked at it. It took far too long to recognize what it was, to appreciate she wasn’t in the hospital anymore. There was a hole in her memories. Who was she kidding? There was a great gaping, spinning vortex. One that didn’t just suck away her immediate past, but chipped away at everything she’d ever learned and believed. She spent too long – maybe a full five minutes – just lying there, wondering at what the heck dirt could be and why she felt so very weak and ill. But then, one by one, almost like a lost army finding itself and regrouping, she started to recall. She’d had her throat slit yesterday. And she’d met Vincent of all people. Vincent…. He was the spark she needed for the rest of her memories to ignite like petrol. She gasped. She tried to shove up. She could not. Nothing attached her to the floor – nothing but bone-shaking weariness. “You’re awake, then,” someone said. She struggled to turn her head around. She couldn’t move any of her muscles, save for her eyes. And that was a risk, frankly. It used up valuable energy reserves. Churn through too much, and Mary might quickly find herself a corpse. She still struggled, struggled, and struggled until she twitched one lip open.

It was the man from the corridor, and he chuckled again. There was a far easier edge to this one. She hadn’t noted it before, but he’d been afraid – just a tad – back in the corridor. Maybe he’d feared she’d get free. There was nothing for him to fear now. He clearly had her exactly where he wanted her. Mary struggled to move her lips again. “Please,” he said. “Let me explain exactly what’s going on. That’s all you want to know, correct? You always search for the relevant facts, don’t you, Mary Lou? So here they are. I have captured you. You have precious little energy left. You will stay in this state unless you’re training for Thursday.” He might’ve told her not to speak, but as Mary struggled just that little bit more, she broke through most of the spell and twitched her lips all the way open. Her mouth was dry – felt like the Sahara in there. Hell, it was like the surface of the sun. No liquid could remain long enough to help lubricate her tongue. She moved it anyway, and it grated like sandpaper against her mouth. “Thursday?” “On Thursday, I will call a special meeting of the tournament. And there, there you will fight for me.” “Who… are you?” “You don’t need to know that.” He might’ve said that, and Mary might be in a weakened condition the likes of which she’d never experienced before, but her mind still worked. You could grind her bones to dust. You could take her brain, shove it into a blender with rocks, and smash it to pieces. But she would still be able to think. Her thoughts spun around and around and around. There was only one thing she could think of. “Theodore,” she blurted, never one to keep the truth to herself for long. There was a long, pronounced hiss, sounding like someone strangling a steam pipe. “I’m right, aren’t I?” “No—”

“It’s too late. I heard it in your response. You’re Theodore. Why have you done this?” “I thought that would be obvious. It’s time for Vincent to fall. He meddles in the city’s future.” “I know what you have planned. You want to open the Hell gates. Is that really a future? Or is that the end?” “You have an overly dramatic imagination. That, or you’ve listened to that fool Vincent too many times. It is ridiculous to fear Hell. It is just another of the realms. Only fools who do not wish to face their shadows fear the Devil.” Mary didn’t even know where to begin with that statement. He thought Vincent was foolish? Here he was, clearly making a deal with the Devil, and he couldn’t even appreciate that might be dangerous. He was like some wayward weapons dealer who would sell to anyone based on the mantra it was just business. Someone who could no longer see what was wrong or right, good or bad. Someone who only saw what they wanted and used that as the only moral justification they would ever need. She laughed. Wow was it a significant move. She didn’t mean she’d controlled her muscles sufficiently to do something that would have been impossible several seconds before. She meant she had never felt more pain. That simple chuckle was the equivalent of turning her fists and feet on herself and going to town on her chest. She spluttered a second later, and she watched as blood splattered over the rough stone floor underneath her. She still couldn’t see very far – just half a meter. It was enough when a shiny set of shoes came into sight. “I ask that you look after yourself. You now belong to me, after all.” The scrunch of fabric filled the room. Theodore kept his hands in his pockets for an inordinate amount of time. What? Didn’t he trust his fingers when he pulled them out? Mary didn’t trust them, either. From the little she’d had to do with him, Theodore clearly grasped at whatever he wanted, be it treasure or somebody’s life he desired to snuff out without reason. “What, aren’t you going to react to that statement?” he hissed.

It took her a few seconds to what he’d said. “I don’t belong to you,” she said directly, with as little ion as she could muster. It was kind of like denying the world was flat. It didn’t take much energy. Why ask the question in the first place? He chuckled again. Darn him, but the more she listened to that chuckle, the more it ignited her fear. Mary wasn’t an idiot. She knew full well she was in a seriously perilous position here. But she also knew the more she reacted to it and the more she fed her fear, the less likely it would be that she’d be able to get out. Right now she needed her mind functioning. It had to tabulate all the evidence around her – every single detail he unconsciously revealed, from the way he laughed, to the exact shade of his shoes. Allow her fear to get the better of her, however, and she would be less likely to pick up the right details. “You have a marvelously direct personality, Mary. A surprise. Not something I’m used to in one of my wives.” That got to her. She spluttered. “Wives?” “We aren’t married yet, but we will be. How else would you be able to fight for me in the ring?” “You’re mad.” “On the contrary. I know exactly what I am and what I want.” His voice dropped all the way down on the word want. It could’ve kept going – moved right through the earth. Then it could’ve powered through the entire universe, skewering every planet, blasting through every heart, destroying all of creation, because men like that didn’t care who lived. They only cared about what they could take. She knew it was a bad idea to struggle. She did it anyway. She wanted to see his face. It would be yet more evidence to log and store away for later, she told her addled mind. So she struggled. One hand went flat on the floor. The other pressed into her side. She shimmied forward. Every move… why describe them? Do that, focus on her pain, and she might try to back away from it. Theodore became quiet. He just watched her. He hissed. He clicked his fingers.

Mary froze. She couldn’t even twist her head toward him anymore. “Do you have no sense of self-preservation, Mary? For you will need one in the ring.” “I don’t care what you say. I’m not gonna fight for you in the ring. I sure as heck am not gonna marry you,” she spat. “You said that with some derision. Do you have any idea what I’m trying to do for this city?” “You might have beaten me and stuffed me down the bottom of a pit, but my mind still functions fine. You made a deal with the Devil—” “Not what I mean,” he hissed ionately. It was an emotion she hadn’t expected. He’d been so calm and in control up to this point. Now it was like he was trying to show her he had a heart after all, all the way under that steel chest of anger and greed. “The Devil is the only one who can keep the city safe.” “What? Safe from a monster like you?” “No. Safe from men like Vincent,” he growled. He did a good impression of sounding like a bear – one that would rip through all resistance to save its young. But in this case, his misguided concept of his young was the city, apparently. Just how twisted was his mind? How could he honestly think that handing Bridgetown over to the Devil on a platter would save the city? “Vincent has been making deals behind everyone’s backs – for decades now.” “What are you talking about?” she reluctantly asked. A part of her wanted him to go away so she could just stare at the floor and try to recoup her energy. But this was information gathering. She might never get a chance like this again. Now he was emotional, he was unguarded. “That fool Vincent has been doing everything he can to protect Bridgetown – including making deals with all the wrong kinds of people.”

“You made a deal with the Devil himself,” Mary hissed. “Who the heck could Vincent be making deals with that’s worse than the Devil?” A lingering silence spread – one that invited your imagination to rise to the challenge. Mary didn’t have an imagination right now. She had an aching void in her head that just begged her to close her eyes and give up. “You might have an unusually direct personality, and you may have a very high threshold for pain, but you don’t seem to be innocent, Mary.” “What’s that meant to mean?” “Culturally, there may be no one worse than the Devil, no place worse than Hell. But you understand that when magic is involved, evil knows no limits, correct?” “It’s rich for someone like you to speak of evil.” “Fine. It is naught but a useless abstract concept anyway. Let me replace it with another. Greed,” he said, his voice doing that thing again, bottoming out as if it could punch through any substance, no matter how thick. If you used that kind of voice on a space shuttle, it would rip through the reinforced floors and walls. If you shoved it into lead, entombing Theodore in the heart of a massive mountain, he’d break through with nothing but a snarl. It certainly unsettled her defenses, made her quiet, made her receptive for the first time. “Vincent might tell you he wants to protect this city. What he wants is this city. He doesn’t want to lose his cast-iron grip on it. So he’s willing to make deals with anyone to ensure that doesn’t happen.” “Who?” “Forces from beyond,” he growled. He put a lot of effort into saying the word beyond. There was drama behind it. He might as well have cracked out an orchestra and got them all to toot on their horns at once. Heck, why not order a light show, too? It was clear he wanted that

word to pack some punch. It meant nothing to Mary. She just blinked at his shoes. “Right.” “Unusual that you do not know the concept of beyond,” he whispered. “I assumed your aunt taught you everything she knew.” There was a real sharp edge to that statement. The kind designed to carve right through her heart. “What?” “The Devil belongs to a version of our realm. But have you never asked what belongs out there?” She heard him extend a finger behind him. “What?” she whispered but only after a conspicuous pause. One that would tell him she was receptive to his words, even though she tried to snarl that through puckered lips. “Hell may be this realm’s lowest point. But trust me, beyond,” he said, using that same guttural emphasis that would underline that statement no matter what got in its way, “there are worse hells.” Mary wasn’t in the greatest position to be thinking complex things. She could go through instinctual movements. She could certainly growl at him. She’d had sufficient concentration to follow this conversation until now. But it took her a moment to wrap her head around what he said. The Devil might belong to this realm’s version of Hell, but there were other realms out there – a multiverse, if you will. And he was inviting her to imagine the Hell that belonged to those places beyond. She just blinked. Then, though she tried to stop it, she shivered. It was all Theodore needed. He snapped in close. Finally his shined black shoes pressed right up against her face. She didn’t have to strain anymore. He’d come to her. And slowly, he got down on one knee. He turned her face around, his thumb driving into her cheek. It brought attention to the fact it was splattered with old blood. She could feel his jagged nails scratching across it. She looked up into his face. She stared into his gaze. And make no mistake, his wide eyes, pressed lips, and barely contained fury told her he believed what he

was saying. She could see the fear yet the determination to do something about it. She didn’t want to, but she swallowed, her throat pres against his wrist and the expensive gold watch adorning it. “You may not agree with me. You may not even like me,” he said, thankfully keeping his gaze on her eyes, “but you will end up marrying me and fighting for me in the ring, because you will appreciate that Bridgetown requires it.” “I… don’t believe you,” she said, pausing for way too long. “I know. Which is why I’m going to make you believe me, Mary. It’s why I’m also going to train you. When I’m done with you, you will be a force like no other. You will be my queen in the ring, and Vincent, Vincent will finally pay.”

18

Vincent

He’d had an unsettled feeling ever since leaving the hospital. It wasn’t just disappointment, though that goaded his stomach. As soon as Mary had turned away, not just bodily, but emotionally, he’d slipped the ring back in his pocket. He could see the writing on the wall, could see that even if he explained the importance of the tournament repeatedly, her heart wouldn’t be in it. He wouldn’t force her. He’d find another. And maybe… it was better. Mary was strong, but he didn’t want her in harm’s way. “Hell of a storm gathering on the horizon,” Bates said. He drove through downtown, his neck strained as he stared up through the windscreen. He touched the glass. It wasn’t marked. He cleaned it obsessively every time they left the garage. He interacted with the magical charm cast across it. As his fingers tapped, it disturbed several sparks. They shot into his wrist. He frowned. “Lot of power in it, too. Wonder what it is?” “Excess magical discharge from the Hell gates if I’m any guess.” Vincent strained his neck toward the enger window. His lips twisted into a frown. A deep one. One that spoke of the tension still rising through him. Letting his hand drop, he went to obsessively grab his pocket again but paused. He twisted his head around. It didn’t seem that Bates paid any attention to anything other than the gathering clouds, but he always had an eye on Vincent. “We can go back to the hospital. I think she’s receptive. We just have to—” “She made it clear, Bates.” “But—” “She has no obligation to fight in the tournament.”

“Maybe she wants to, though. She just had a big day.” “I don’t want more people to get hurt for me,” Vincent said, his tone uniquely vulnerable and empty. It wasn’t the kind of empty where you could fill it up with anything good – just the opposite. It invited this city to bring him more pain. “Fine,” Bates whispered. “But you aren’t going to ignore her, are you?” Vincent frowned. “What?” “I know you have a lot on your plate, and we have to find you a new wife, but you’ll still find out what Missy’s restriction is, right?” Vincent frowned. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about that – if he hadn’t been considering it deeply ever since Celeste had told him. But Bates was right. Vincent had too much else to distract himself with. “A human with a restriction – that’s got to be important. Got to be a clue to something.” Bates kept staring at him hopefully. “I—” Vincent went to say he didn’t have time. But that would deny his interest. Even now, it rose in him, one of the only sensations that could by his dread. And speaking of that dread, it leaped even higher just a few seconds before his phone rang. He pulled it out. He frowned when he realized it was Celeste. “What—” “She’s gone.” Vincent didn’t need to ask for an explanation. He sat ramrod straight, straining against his seatbelt as he grabbed it with a white-knuckled grip. “Mary?” Scarcely were the words out of his lips when Bates voluntarily slammed his foot down on the brakes. Without being told, he made a wild u-turn, the limousine somehow not tipping over, despite the strenuous maneuver. “Yes, Mary. She’s disappeared,” Celeste answered, her words curt, her stress clear.

“You mean she checked herself out of the hospital?” “No. I already looked at the available security footage. She went for a walk… and during that walk, she disappeared.” “What are you talking about?” Vincent’s voice dipped down low. It was all he could do to hide his fear. But it couldn’t be hidden from him. As it marched through his chest, it contracted every muscle, making it feel as if the space that’d been allotted for Vincent’s heart had just reduced so significantly, it was about to implode. He heard Celeste take a sharp breath. “I’ve had our security officers check it. Nothing.” “You can’t find any evidence of where she went?” “No, I mean we can’t find anything at all. No evidence of where she went. No evidence of what spell plucked her up.” “Have you called the police?” “Of course I’ve called the police. I know my obligations, Vincent,” Celeste said, her snapped words revealing that this was no mere game to her. She treated every single one of her patients with utmost care. She wouldn’t want anyone to disappear under her watchful gaze. Bates strained against his seatbelt now. He kept only half of his attention for the road, but considering he was one of the most powerful warlocks in the city, that meant little. He dodged all the traffic as he stared at Vincent through the rear vision mirror. “What’s happening?” he mouthed, every movement of his lips quick, the look in his eyes clearly desperate. Though they might’ve only just met Mary, she’d had an effect on Bates. “I will arrive there shortly,” Vincent said. Celeste sighed. “Don’t you have bigger fish to fry? I only told you because I thought it was important for the council. First human with a restriction I’ve ever seen disappears in my hospital with no evidence whatsoever of where she’s gone. That would be worrying, even if we hadn’t already discovered she’s significant.”

Vincent got stuck on one word. Significant. He wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. He didn’t know who Mary really was, did he? He couldn’t fathom what was going on here. But at least he could do something about it. “I will be there shortly—” “Vincent, the police are already on their way. I heard she rejected you, anyway. I’m only telling you because it might be important to the council.” He clenched his teeth. Not at the fact Celeste knew Mary had rejected him – just at that wave of dread that kept crashing against him. It hadn’t gotten any better. He was now tenser than he’d been previously. It didn’t feel like his muscles would ever melt, like the tension would ever leave him. He would soon break his own spine unless he could loosen. Bates shot down the road, as fast as a bullet. Not too many people could drive a limousine like that. There are inherent limitations with its design. Bates just did what he could with skill. And when that wasn’t enough, he pulsed magic into the car through a flat palm locked on the door. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Vincent. Don’t like anything about this situation, in fact,” Celeste itted. Vincent didn’t force his lips open to say he felt the same thing. He waited. They were only two minutes away now. Don’t ask him how Bates had closed the significant distance between them and the hospital in such a short time. Maybe he’d even opened a porthole without Vincent being aware of it. All Vincent cared about was getting there to find out where Mary had gone to. He got off the line with Celeste. Then he gripped his seatbelt. He shook his head at his own stupidity. He should’ve just stayed away from Mary, should’ve gone with his original feeling and kept her at arm’s-length. Now he’d likely ruined her life. They arrived. This time when Bates rammed up onto the pavement in front of the main entrance, he didn’t bother to move the car. He barreled out as if his life depended on it. It didn’t. But Mary’s did. Bates had clearly grown sufficiently attached to her that she was like family now.

Vincent didn’t know how to describe his attachment to Mary, though. His heart tried, tried as it rammed around in his chest, tried as his teeth clenched, and tried as he ran through the front doors in time to see Hammerstead. The detective turned, a grim look on his face. “You here for Mary, too? Fact of the matter is we have no evidence. You can see footage of her walking down the corridor – then she just disappears.” “Where did this happen?” Vincent demanded. Celeste stood there, hands on her hips, an annoyed expression scrunching her lips and brow. If you didn’t know her, it might seem she was irritated at this distraction. Vincent knew her more than well enough to realize the irritation was all personal. She would assume she’d failed. It hadn’t been her fault. Vincent hadn’t bothered to connect things. He’d let his feelings get to him. Though he didn’t want to it this, he’d felt rejected by Mary. So he’d left her side. He hadn’t put two and two together, though. She’d been attacked by demons today. Yes, it had occurred around the Devil seal. But they hadn’t attacked him – just her. He’d never been their target. Something out there was after Mary, and he’d let it get her. As a crippling weight descended on his shoulders, he ground his teeth together. He marched up to Hammerstead. “Take me there.” Hammerstead frowned. “What’s your connection to Mary, anyway? We’ll find her. She probably just wandered off somewhere. Has a talent for poking the wrong kinds of spells – just like she did at your hotel yesterday.” “Take me there, Hammerstead,” Vincent said. He didn’t have time for pleasantries – couldn’t waste the movements of his criminally stiff lips. Hammerstead fortunately didn’t question, just frowned at Vincent again, then waved him on. Bates walked behind Vincent, his hands clenched into stiff fists. They were the kind that would punch through anything that dared get in their way. You give Bates a target between him and Mary, and it would crumble.

But you’d have to give him a target first. A sinking sense filled Vincent’s gut as he walked through the hospital. He wasn’t suddenly aware of a nefarious spell. The point was, he was aware of nothing. Somebody had cleaned these halls. He didn’t mean with bleach. He was talking magically. He couldn’t even detect any spells, let alone the one that had whisked Mary away. “I’ve already noted that too,” Celeste said by his side. “Virtually the whole hospital has been cleaned of magical residue – even the rooms Mary had nothing to do with. I feel we’re dealing with a professional here – a powerful one at that.” “No point jumping to conclusions. Nobody would be that interested in Mary,” Hammerstead laughed uncomfortably. Vincent locked his attention on Hammerstead’s face. Was he joking? Or did he have no idea whatsoever about Mary’s true power? “I will be the judge of that,” Celeste said professionally. “She’s my patient, and I am well aware of her worth.” Hammerstead frowned. “What does that mean?” “This is where she disappeared, correct?” Vincent ground to a halt. He didn’t know why, but something kept him here. His magical senses didn’t warn him of anything. His shoulders just twitched. “You never fail to amaze me,” Celeste mumbled. She didn’t grin at his brilliance. Another grim frown marked her lips. Vincent turned on his foot. The corridor was empty, a subtle magical barricade on either side. He turned again, then slowly got down to his knee. He trailed his fingers over the floor. It felt like something was missing. Heck, who was he kidding? Something was missing. Ever since he’d found out Mary had gone, something had started carving up his heart. Vincent didn’t like to fail people. For he had failed far too many people in his

life. First his family, then the city. Now Mary. He clenched his teeth again. It was all he could do to hold back the tide of his emotions. Hammerstead frowned. “I’m sure it’s all fine.” Based on his tone, you’d assume he wasn’t worried in the least. He’d clearly dealt enough with Mary over the years to know her antics. But he would take this seriously – even if Vincent had to force him to. Vincent cleared his throat to say that, but Bates got there first. “This is not some accident, Detective, and you will investigate it properly,” Bates growled. Hammerstead arched an eyebrow. “No one said that we’re not going to investigate it properly. I’m simply—” “She’s been kidnapped,” Vincent said. He was still down on the floor, his fingers spread over that patch of concrete. There was nothing there. It was an ordinary piece of the floor. Or seemingly so. None of his magical senses were warning him about it. But his intuition – the deep instincts that resided far in his soul – screeched louder than all else. Hammerstead turned and frowned quickly. “Whoa. No point jumping to any conclusions. As I tried to tell you earlier – Mary’s constantly poking the wrong kinds of spells. She would’ve come across something, ignored the fact she was a level I witch, and tried to investigate it anyway. If you ask me, we’re going to find her in a dump somewhere, at the other end of a portal spell, with a few bumps and scrapes, but that’s it.” Vincent didn’t bother to correct him. He concentrated with everything he had on that scrap of concrete. Flattening his hand harder, he pulsed magic into it. Bringing his arm up and down, he struck it with all his force, too. “What are you doing?” Hammerstead snapped. When a vampire like Vincent struck the floor with all his force, it was the equivalent of a jackhammer. Large fissure lines of damage ran out in every direction, and concrete dust erupted up around Vincent. Until it disappeared. As

did the damage. Celeste gasped and jerked back. “You found something.” Bates snapped close. Hammerstead blinked, then frowned. He dropped the act. He got down on one knee. He might pretend not to care about Mary – or at least always wear a constantly long-suffering expression around her – but now that changed. “That’s a level X disguise spell,” he hissed. Vincent was well aware of that fact. “This is bad,” Celeste said. “This could be cast on the entire hospital, and we would have no clue. We wouldn’t be treating real patients – we’d be treating magical holographic versions of them.” “I don’t think it’s cast on the entire hospital,” Vincent snapped through gritted teeth. He pushed up. He followed his intuition. He walked to another section of the corridor. He punched his hand down again. This time it did real enduring damage. Hammerstead knew what he was doing now, so he helped. He went to another section and punched the wall. His damage disappeared. In like fashion, they finally found the location of the disguise spell. There were holes in the wall, ceiling, and floor – damage that would cost a fair bit to repair. But at least they cordoned off the circumference of the disguise magic. Celeste stood there, her teeth clenched, her brow slick with sweat, anger marking her every movement. If she’d been a cat, her tail would’ve slashed around like a sword. “Who would dare do this to the hospital?” “Why would they waste so much magic?” Hammerstead stammered. “Trust me, it’s not a waste,” Vincent mumbled. He couldn’t mention Mary’s name, could hardly bring himself to think of her. Do that, and he might turn his mind to imagining where she could be right now.

He only knew of a few practitioners in the city who could dare cast a spell this complicated, especially in the usually well-protected hospital. They must’ve found out about Mary’s power…. And he knew precisely how they would’ve done that. His ex-wife, Amy. Just thinking about her made him form a fist with the force of magnetic clamps. Hammerstead had already called in a team of magical forensic warlocks. It wouldn’t take them long to get here. But Mary didn’t have long. Vincent’s intuition warned him that wherever she was, she was clutched in the hands of his enemies. Maybe… maybe even the Devil. He spun, fright marking his brow. Hammerstead no longer took this as a joke. He picked up on Vincent’s emotional cues. “Nobody would want Mary that much. She must’ve wandered into someone else’s trap,” he told them firmly, but he sounded like a kid attempting to ignore reality with naught but wishes. “This was for her,” Vincent whispered. He turned around again. The last vestiges of the disguise spell were breaking. Now they’d disturbed it, it discharged. It would leave some evidence. It wouldn’t be enough to track down whoever had done this. Strong practitioners knew how to hide their skills. And strong practitioners would equally know how to hide Mary. “I demand that you use every single resource to find my patient,” Celeste snapped at Hammerstead. Hammerstead still looked way out of his depth. That was unusual for a man who was always in total control. He shook his head, grabbed his chin, and pushed his fingers in hard until he left half-moon indents. “I still can’t believe that someone wanted to go after Mary. She’s just—” “She’s more important than you could know,” Vincent said in an unguarded voice that would lead to all the wrong kinds of questions.

Sure enough, Hammerstead looked at him, a giant frown marking his lips. “What exactly does that mean? I know you just met her, but Mary—” “Just find her,” Celeste snapped. “Of course I’m going to find her.” He marched to the other end of the corridor as the forensic team of warlocks arrived. That left Vincent with Bates. Bates snapped in close. “It’s gotta be someone from the tournament. They found out about her skills.” Vincent’s stomach descended. He’d already thought of that possibility, but hearing it out loud was the equivalent of having somebody talk about a dead body before showing you every gruesome detail. What the Hell had he done? Why had he walked away from her when she was at her most vulnerable? “We need to get the word out, call the council, do everything we can,” Bates tried. They could do that. It wouldn’t work. If someone had Mary, they’d keep her until they used her. Vincent? There wasn’t a thing Vincent could do. He’d started this week looking for a wife. He’d end it at the foot of Grendel as this city fell.

19

Mary

Theodore was true to his word. When she didn’t train, she was back there in the empty pit. A normal person would lose their mind. It was questionable whether Mary had a mind in the first place, so there wasn’t a great deal to be afraid of losing. But the training… it was brutal. She trained now, in fact. A blindfold covered her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d fought blindfolded. It was a trick her aunt had used multiple times. When you were sighted, you relied on that faculty at the detriment of every other sense. When it was compromised in a fight, it would be easy enough to defeat you. It’s exactly what she’d done to that monster back when she’d encountered Theodore. But this wasn’t like her aunt’s training. Theodore didn’t care if she got hurt. He’d fix her injuries up at the end of the day. But until the end of the day, she would lose blood, walk on broken bones, and constantly feel like she was on the edge of breaking for good. She heard a hiss from beside her. She twisted. There was a sword in her hands. She wasn’t used to fighting with them. But Theodore insisted. She brought it up just in time. She weakly parried the blow. Theodore hissed. He would disappear for long stretches of the day, but then come back, always to train her, always to say he was disappointed in her skills and she needed to show her true power. She couldn’t keep track of the number of times she’d told him to get lost. Get lost he would not.

He had her exactly where he needed her. Mary couldn’t stop her mind from obsessing over the facts of this case. Nor could she stop her imagination from filling in the gaps. Come Thursday, she’d fight for Theodore in the tournament. And likely, she’d lose. He might’ve been enamored of her power to begin with, but the more he trained her, the more he came up against her inherent weaknesses. “Fight,” he roared, his angry voice punching through the room like a clap of thunder. She brought up her sword again, but she didn’t parry in time. Something struck it with the force of a speeding car. She was knocked flat on her butt. She tried to twist, but something pinned her. Fortunately it didn’t do it through her chest. She said fortunately. It wouldn’t kill her. Theodore had cast a complicated enchantment on her body and the monsters who fought her. They could technically impale her and break all her bones, but she would heal easily. She would just have to put up with the bone-breaking, skin-splitting agony. This monster only impaled her through the shoulder. She felt it – knew the second its tail ruptured her flesh, heard every bone beneath snapping. Then that unique pulse of total fright that ricochets through one’s body as it warns you that you just received a near-fatal injury. She let out a hiss, and blood splattered from her lips. She didn’t scream, though. She hadn’t screamed ever since Theodore had confronted her in the pit. “Dammit. Wield the sword. Use your real magic.” “We’ve gone over this thousands of times,” Mary managed. It was Hell on earth moving her lips. The monster still pinned her. It didn’t go for her throat, but it screamed right in her face, and she could see its jagged teeth glinting with her own blood.

Hell, who knew, if Theodore became too disappointed with her, maybe he’d tell his little pet to end it, rip out her neck, and move on to the next poor sorry fighter. “You will wield your true power,” Theodore spat again. “This is my true power. I told you a million times I’m just a level I witch.” “You’re not just a level I anything. Now, fight for me.” With that echoing hiss, the creature removed its tail from Mary’s shoulder. She remained there, her sword weakly clutched in her grip. She reached a point where pain didn’t mean much anymore. Usually, the human body attempts to avoid it, no matter the costs. But if you face it repeatedly, it dulls. Or at least it had with her. Theodore didn’t like it if she didn’t jump to her feet after every defeat. It was the same thing when she failed to meet his expectations. The floor became as hot as lava. It burnt and blistered her skin. But she continued to lie there, her fingers still weakly clutched around the sword. “Rise,” he hissed. “There’s no point. We’re both realizing I don’t have the power you want. Just get it over and done with.” There was a pause, and Mary wondered whether Theodore really had had enough of her. Then he clicked his fingers. She felt compulsion magic racing into her legs. She jerked up onto her feet. It pushed into her fingers, and she clutched her sword tighter, just when she wanted to drop it with an almighty clang to her feet. She clenched her teeth and snarled at him. “If you can compel me, why not just compel me in the ring?” “Because that is forbidden. I must not come to the aid of a fighter. To do so would be to trigger a fight for me instead.”

It might not sound like it or look like it, but Mary listened to everything he said. She might have told him a few seconds ago to just end it, but she didn’t mean it. Even now, when it seemed things couldn’t get worse, that little part of Mary’s brain that noted evidence worked on overdrive. “Then why don’t you just fight for me? It’s clear that you're far stronger than me,” she hissed. “In the ring, one must fight an enemy proportional to their own skills.” “And you’re too much of a coward to be pitted against something of your own skill level? Makes sense,” she snarled. “Do not speak of things you do not understand.” Bravery was a real hot button topic for Theodore. It wasn’t the first time she’d taunted him with his cowardice. Every time he’d risen to the bait like a fish wanting to prove it could eat the hook and still live. “Everything I do—” he began. “You do for this city. You do to stop Vincent’s greed. Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. It doesn’t change the fact you’re not willing to fight for yourself. You need blood sacrifices.” He proved he was in complete control of her as he forced her to yank the sword up and parry another blow. She had to it he was good. It wasn’t a compliment, however. Being good at controlling someone else’s body so they could fight in a brawl you were too cowardly to fight on your own wasn’t a noteworthy skill. Her fingers stiffened around the hilt, clutching it with an expert grip that couldn’t be broken. Even as the monster twisted around and struck the sword with the full force of its tail, it wasn’t wrenched out of Mary’s hands. “This is how you truly fight.” “You’re wrong,” she said automatically. “And you are uselessly contrary. Accept your lessons. Do you not understand

what will happen if you don’t? When you are pitted against an enemy on Thursday, you will die.” “Vincent said that nobody dies in the tournament.” “He can’t see the writing on the wall. The Devil seals are no longer satisfied with the blood of losers. They want the blood of the dead instead.” “I thought you were a good guy? Did you just hear your own tone? You want blood to be let for the Devil. You want it to spill through the streets, don’t you?” “You’re right. But I don’t want just anyone’s blood. I want Vincent’s.” “You’re gonna have to kill him yourself,” Mary snarled. While she’d spat her words out with ion, she hadn’t used the exact tone she did now. It brought way too much attention to the truth. And what truth was that? Mary might not have known Vincent long, but she knew where her loyalties lay. Theodore paused, then out of nowhere, another monster appeared right behind her. It went to wrap its tail around Mary’s middle. Damn her, but her instincts acted on their own. She twisted, jerked to the side, brought the sword up, and chopped right through the creature’s tail, just like that. Theodore hissed in satisfaction. “That is it. Stop relying on your physical strength,” he warned with a growl. “Use your true magic.” “This is my true magic,” she now snarled with frustration. “I’m only a level I witch.” “With a restriction in your body. That restriction holds back your true force. You must learn to fight it, must learn to tap into it. It will be the secret to winning.” “The doctor said the restriction didn’t hide my magic,” Mary tried. “Celeste is wrong. I am right. Within you is a seal that holds back your true force. You can and will learn to fight it.” With that, he controlled her again. He twisted her around in a perfect maneuver.

Her balance was solid, her hair fluttered around her face, and not once did she lose her grip on her sword. Another monster appeared. Theodore showed her how to cut right through it. But all the while, Mary clenched her teeth and her mind whirled. “That’s… that’s why you want me to fight in the ring, isn’t it?” “I want you to win—” “You just said that in the tournament, you’re pitted against enemies with a similar power level. If I… really have a restriction holding back my magic, that’s why you want me, isn’t it? Because I’ll be pitted against someone at my current level. But if I have access to stronger magic no one else can see—” “You aren’t as stupid as you look. Congratulations. You now know my plan. And you will enact it.” “Like Hell. I’m gonna do everything I can to stop you.” “You will not. You will soon see that I am the only way to save this city.” “I do not believe for a second that Vincent has made a deal with a greater Hell than the one that sits beneath Bridgetown. There isn’t a single thing you can do to convince me of that.” “Trust me,” his voice bottomed out all the way low, “there is. I will show you the truth. And when you feel it, you will fight for me. You will do whatever you can to lift me up so Vincent cannot rise further.” With that ominous snarl echoing through the air, more monsters appeared, and more training occurred. Mary couldn’t stop. Theodore wouldn’t let her. Come Thursday, she’d fight for him. Come Thursday, she’d marry him. Come Thursday, she’d be the very reason the Apocalypse rose to take Bridgetown down in one fiery blow.

20

Vincent

He was frantic. It had been several days. He couldn’t find her. No one could. Hammerstead was way beyond thinking this was a simple misunderstanding. Most of the department was out searching for her. There was no evidence. Mary had just up and disappeared. And what was Vincent doing? Searching nonstop for her? Pulling up every stone, checking behind every tree? No. He couldn’t afford that distraction. And it was killing him on the inside. He sat there behind his coffee table, staring at the chaise long in front of him. “I’m one of the strongest sorceresses in the South,” a woman called Angela said as she sat forward on the seat, her knees peeking out from underneath her resplendent summer dress. Every flower motif glowed. As did every strand of her hair and the outline around her eyes. She certainly was powerful. “I ask for nothing in return. Nothing but training and the ability to prove myself.” She clenched a hand into a fist. Vincent looked at her emptily. She was good on paper. He just…. He heard footfall, quick and solid, behind the closed door of the drawing-room. He shot up as fast as he could, his limbs not allowing him to move any slower. His heart told him it was Bates with some information on Mary. He rocketed toward the door, wrenched it open, and waited. Maybe she’d even be there.… She wasn’t. Bates looked at him disappointedly, knowing full well what had been going through Vincent’s mind.

Then Bates gestured to the side. “I have her. Not Mary,” he corrected, his eyes rounding at Vincent’s desperation. Vincent took a step back. “Who?” “Petunia.” Vincent froze. Before he’d married Amy, there’d been one vampire in the country he’d been after. He’d wanted her for years, in fact. Petunia. She might not look like much at first glance. She had a pleasant, light personality and a laugh that could tinkle through the darkest night. She had a round face, plush lips, and blond locks. She looked like a doll at times. She didn’t fight like one. She was categorically one of the most powerful vampires in the country. Vincent had proposed to her many times, but she’d always turned him down. “What?” he stammered. “Why now?” Bates just nodded quickly, his neck practically rebounding like a squash ball. “Yeah. She came of her own accord.” “I—” Angela jerked up. “You haven’t even finished listening to me.” Bates took a step close and opened his hands. “The boss is good at sensing someone’s power straight off the bat. You will be called soon.” “But—” Bates hustled her out. Vincent stood there for way too long, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone through interviews like this before. But Petunia…. But Petunia what? A large part of his mind wanted to scream at him. What was he doing wasting time while he should be out searching for Mary? But it wasn’t a waste of time, was it? He couldn’t click his fingers and find her.

Maybe in the past he could’ve done that, but he didn’t have power like that anymore. And that… was the sorry point at the heart of this twisted tale. Vincent needed to scrounge back his strength in this city. If he wanted to stop all the horrors, he had to fight back against Theodore. This… this was how he would do it. He unstuck one foot then the next. He straightened, though it was a stiff, fake move. He wouldn’t look strong – just look like somebody who’d been strung up on a butcher’s hook. He walked down a stately corridor, ignoring the soft plush pile beneath him. He twisted around, faced the stately wide steps that led down to the atrium, and saw Petunia there. She wore jeans, boots, and a shirt. Everyone else had come dressed to impress. She didn’t need to impress anybody. Her power was visible even from here. He could see it, crackling around her in an aura. She slowly tilted her head back, her hair sliding around her cheeks. “It’s been a long time, Vincent.” He paused on the stairs, one hand on the railing. He took his time to walk down. She locked her eyes on him the entire way. When he stopped in front of her, he cleared his throat. “Why—” “Why now? Because I agree with you, Vincent. Because I want to save this city, too.” “You… do?” “It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that Hell is trying to push through in Bridgetown,” she growled. “You can’t do this on your own.” “I… can’t do this on my own.” His tone was empty. He repeated her words, but it didn’t turn into a question. It didn’t turn into a statement, either. It was just… sound. Empty damn sound. She looked at him, a certain knowing energy in her gaze, a soft, leading one, too. She was different from every other fighter he’d interviewed. She knew what was going on here. She wasn’t after his wealth, wasn’t after his prestige. Neither did she need his training. She wanted to help save this city. And that’s… that’s all Vincent had ever been after, right?

She took a step up to him. She tilted her head to the side. “I know you’ve had a rough week. I heard about the incident with the Devil seal. And I know,” she dropped her voice, “that there are forces on the council that are actively trying to stop you. You need help. And I’m here to give it. Like I said, I want nothing from you. I want to save Bridgetown.” He’d waited so long to hear those words. And now… now they were being said, they had this certain hollow quality to them. Petunia blinked back her surprise at the fact he wasn’t accepting her with open arms. Then the slightest smile crumpled her lips. “I thought you’d be more enthusiastic than this? Maybe I should’ve worn something different?” she tried playfully. He shook his head. He attempted to come to his senses. “You can’t be—” “I’m serious. I will do anything to stop the Devil from claiming the city. Like I said—” “You’re just,” he finally let his gaze slip down her, “here to help.”

21

Mary

Another day, more training. She said another day, but she didn’t know how many had ed. Time was just this immovable clump in her mind – this thick wall she couldn’t peer beyond. Theodore wasn’t here this time. Sorry, he wasn’t here yet. She did most of her training alone. He’d usually be there at the end to threaten her to tell her to break through her seal. Then he’d go off to do whatever it is evil vampires did when they weren’t training unsuspecting women. When he wasn’t around, she was happy to let loose, though not once did she ever try to push against her seal. She was aware of it, though. It wasn’t located anywhere specifically in her body, but she kept going back to her chest, rubbing the flat of her palm against her sternum whenever she could. How had she never known she had a seal? More to the point… more to the point, why hadn’t her aunt told her? Mary would’ve had the seal from birth. It was almost impossible to comprehend that somebody would have cast it on her afterward. Especially if the seal held back her natural power. Which meant her aunt had withheld the truth. … Why? That question went around and around and around in Mary’s head. And every time it did, it dug up more of her personality, pushed further into her past, and made her question everything. Millicent had been a lot of things. But she’d always told Mary to tell the truth and to never hold back. One of the greatest ways you can protect someone else is by telling them all the facts.

So why the heck hadn’t her aunt done that? Wrong time to be distracted. Mary fought against two monsters. As one of them sliced in close, they picked her up around her middle. She didn’t even bother to gasp. She was way beyond showing fear. It was a waste of energy. Theodore wasn’t gonna kill her. She was way too valuable to him. Though she could tell he was angry and maybe just a tad scared. She still hadn’t broken through her seal. If he made her fight in the tournament without it, she’d lose, right? Good. Let her lose. She had no intention whatsoever of marrying Theodore and fighting by his side, no matter how much poisonous bile he spat in her ear. A monster now screamed with all the frightful fury of Hell embodied. And that wasn’t so far off the mark. Mary didn’t know where she was, but she had to be close to a Hell gate. She appreciated that, because this area felt a lot like those demons. She didn’t see any, thankfully. Theodore only made her fight standard magical monsters created by his own power. She was still aware of the sense in the air. Just how many Hell seals were there in the city? When Vincent had gone to that squat building, she’d assumed that was it. Maybe it was the major seal, and all the other seals were just minor recreations of it? Or heck, maybe Mary was just guessing here and it was time to stop dabbling in dangerous assumptions. And with no real facts, there was no chance she could get out of here, even if she dug deep and tried her hardest. The monster behind her screamed again. It shot in close. Mary dodged back. She was quick, somehow quicker than she should be. Hell, she was definitely quicker. Stronger, too. Though Theodore was desperately trying to train her so she would find her seal and break beyond it, the training had another unintended effect. Mary found it easier to rely on her agility and her

meager magic. She became an even more efficient fighting machine. Right now, she twisted, sliced through the monster before her, then parried the blow from the one behind and impaled it. All with only the faintest spark of magic scuttling along the tip of her sword. Both monsters failed and disappeared. Almost immediately, they respawned, however. Mary smiled. “There will be no smiles,” Theodore said as he ported in right behind her. He grabbed the hilt of her blade and yanked it back. She fell against his chest. She pivoted. She glowered up into his face. He didn’t wear his hood anymore. What was there to hide? He had sharp eyes. That was the only thing she wanted to describe. For his eyes were the only feature that truly showed his intent. The rest of him had the perfectly programmed handsome features of a vampire. From his build to his jaw – someone could’ve carved him out of a magazine. Mary didn’t fall for his charms. And she sure as Hell didn’t spend too long staring into that cutting gaze. She took several more steps back from him. He wasn’t compelling her yet. So she would show him she wouldn’t be messed with. She leveled the sword at him, for what good that would do. He slowly arched an eyebrow. Then he pushed his throat right into the tip. The sword should cut his flesh, but it couldn’t. It wasn’t just that it was a manifestation of his magic. It was he was stronger than the blade and her. His gaze blazed. “Do it, Mary. Slice my throat.” She snarled at him. “I don’t care what you’ve got planned. It’s not working, is it?” “If you want to get out of here, slice through my throat,” he snarled, his biting words echoing through the room.

She just snarled back. She kept the sword held up, but she didn’t push forward. Why waste her energy? But Theodore continued to glower at her, his teeth clenching, his gaze becoming even more menacing. It was a concentrated blast of death. Set it upon a field, and it would destroy a crop just as easily as napalm. “Do it,” he now screamed, his voice reverberating around the room. “Slice through my throat.” “No. You can’t get me to open my seal, no matter what you do. So what are you gonna do on Thursday?” “What do you mean on Thursday? You mean today, Mary. You mean in several hours.” “What?” she stammered. “Hard to keep track of time when all you do is sleep and train, isn’t it? Let me assure you, it’s Thursday.” He jerked around her, and the next thing she knew, he had one arm around her throat. He brought up his watch. He tapped on the date. And sure enough, she saw the word Thursday blinking back at her. She shouldn’t react – especially not with him this close. She couldn’t control her stomach as it pitched. “You want to know what I’ll do? I’ll force you to break through your seal in the ring. You think I’ve wasted every trick I have? You think I haven’t been watching you just like you’ve been watching me over these past several days?” he hissed, his voice like swords by her neck. She didn’t react. “You think I’m not a good observer? Think you’re the only one who gathers evidence on your enemies? I know what makes you tick. And I know what makes you hurt,” he snarled. All she could do was think of Vincent. Big mistake. Her body reacted naturally

once more. So he hunkered down closer against her ear. “You will fight past your restriction. And you will win. And then Vincent, poor little Vincent will be forced to fight Grendel.” “Who?” “Ah, that’s a sorry tale for later. Now, time to pick up your sword.” She already held it, the hilt hard in her grip. Now he sent a certain spell spiraling down the blade, sinking into her skin. It forced the hilt to adhere to her flesh. Even if she’d had a crowbar, she wouldn’t force it free. Then Theodore finally, thankfully, jerked away from her. He clicked his fingers, and a sword formed in his own grip. It blazed far more brightly than Mary’s. Mary might not have had too much to do with magical weapons before she’d met Theodore, but her training had plunged her into the deep end, so to speak. She could appreciate his sword was 10 times stronger than hers. “Hardly a fair fight,” she snarled at him. “Not meant to be. I don’t want you to think this world is fair ever again. I want you to realize just how brutal it is, just how many people want to hurt you. I want you to understand just how many people want to use you. And the very first one? Why, he was Vincent. Do you know what would’ve happened if you’d been stupid enough to marry him? Do you know what he would’ve done to you in the ring?” “I’m not going to listen to lies,” she hissed. “Yes, you are. You’re a captive audience.” He clicked his fingers. Energy jolted into her wrists. It pushed down into her feet. Then she shoved forward. She moved so quickly, she could’ve churned up the stones beneath her. She even screamed. Theodore laughed when he realized he was in complete control, then casually brought up his sword and parried her blow. Sparks erupted out everywhere. But while the flames were ferocious, they were tame compared with the fury burning in his gaze. “Would you like to know what he would’ve done to you?”

“I would’ve fought for him in the ring,” Mary growled. A mistake. She shouldn’t show her willingness to engage with this ridiculous conversation. Do that, and he’d only tried to lure her in further. He twisted, his expensive shoes squeaking against the stones. He ported, and he appeared right beside her. But here’s the thing – she still wasn’t in control of her body. He could dodge around all he wanted, but it wasn’t like he could surprise her. This was like sparring against yourself in a videogame. She went to say it was a complete waste of time. But it wasn’t. Every time he did this, he taught her more skills. She wanted to shut her mind off from them, but she couldn’t shut her body off. It learned deep muscle memories of how to wield swords, of how to parry, of how to dodge, and of how to fight with all her strength. She shot forward, grunted, and brought her sword down against his. Sparks erupted out everywhere. “Good,” he hissed. “If you really want to fight,” he snarled, “you have to release all your real energy.” He brought his foot back, locked it against her chest, and kicked hard. She tumbled backward, rolling across the jagged stones beneath her. She cut her cheek, and slippery lines of blood splattered out across the floor. She jerked onto her feet immediately. No pause – not when Theodore the monster controlled her every movement. “Vincent might’ve lured you in with promises of everything you want, but once he had you and once you’d fallen for him in the ring, he would’ve let you die without remorse.” “He’s not like that,” she said in a far too strained, far too imioned voice. It spoke of a deep relationship she simply didn’t have with him. “How can you be certain? You only just met him. I’ve known him for years. And his wife Amy, ah, she knew him even better. Take it from her, Vincent is just a manipulative monster.” This was the first time Theodore had mentioned Amy. Mary already knew they

were connected. She’d assumed Theodore wanted to hide that connection. Maybe now was a moment of weakness, or he’d figured out Mary already knew. He wanted to rub that fact in her face. Kind of literally, as he kicked her in the stomach, twisted around, forced the flat of the blade against her back, and shunted her onto the ground. Then he leaned into the small of her back, grabbed her head, and pushed it down against the stone. She could smell the dirt marked with her own blood. “Vincent churns through his wives because he’s too cowardly to get in the ring, too cowardly to end this.” “Too cowardly – just like you?” Mary snarled. “I have a higher goal. He simply fears losing hold of this city.” “And what do you fear?” “I do everything for Bridgetown.” “Heck no. I’ve heard the fear in your voice since the beginning. This is way more important to you. You’re running from something, aren’t you, Theodore?” It was just a guess, but it was a well-placed one. He was right – she’d been observing him every time they’d fought. Maybe she’d given away too much, but so had he. He hissed, and his grip faltered on her neck. Then it only shoved in harder. He now ground her face against the stones as if he wanted to break her in two. She just chuckled, coughing up more blood. Let it come. It proved to him she could bleed and would prove no matter how much he knocked her down, she’d always get up. “You tell yourself you’re doing this for Bridgetown. But you’re running from something. I’m not the solution, Theodore. You’ve wasted days training me. It’s not gonna work in the end. I’m gonna lose in a couple of hours. And I’m gonna drag you down with me.” “You won’t be able to lose,” he hissed. “Why? Because I’ll lose my life if I do? Unlike you, I don’t run from death.”

He hissed. His anger was getting the better of him. Getting so much the better of him, he momentarily didn’t guard himself. He was a seriously powerful vampire. That hadn’t changed and never would. But seriously powerful, in some ways, was easier to fight than anyone else. They knew their weaknesses, but they believed their strength would always rise to the fore. Mary? She fought knowing that at any moment she could lose and that at every moment, she had to protect herself. She twisted. She let the tiniest pulse of magic sink into her hip so she could pivot with all her force. She threw Theodore off. She didn’t go for her sword but for his. She grabbed the hilt and twisted it. In a blast, Theodore realized what she was doing. Fear catapulted through his gaze. And finally, just at the last moment before she could twist the sword around and slice it right across his chest, he grabbed hold of it once more. He let out one Hell of a scream. Hell being the most important word. It shook through the room, and it gathered that dense demonic feeling. It turned against Mary. It struck her in the chest and sent her spiraling away. She rolled and rolled and rolled until she hit the far wall. Her head flopped down between her knees, blood pooling out of her split lips and broken nose. She still managed a snorting laugh. “Almost got you, didn’t I? Didn’t have to remove my restriction though, did I?” He launched to his feet. He roared in anger. He shot toward her but restrained himself. His chest heaved up and down, back and forth. He looked like a bull just raring to go to town on a China shop, but one the farmer had finally controlled. He parted his lips. It was more accurate to say they split open across his face. He’d been holding them stiffly like someone had plastered them shut. Now a hiss erupted from them, as deadly as a plume ejecting from a once dead volcano. “Do not tempt me. The tournament starts in two hours. In one and a half hours, we will marry. And in two hours, you will fight for me. And you will win. You will blast through your restriction. You will have no choice.” He went to walk away. Mary wasted energy to reach out and grab his ankle. She tilted her head back. “I’m not going to help you.”

He inclined his head down, anger pulsing through his gaze like fire. “You will have no choice. We all have a point, Mary, a point which we cannot go beyond. We all have things we cannot sacrifice. That makes us human.” “You aren’t human.” “But you are,” he hissed. “I will find the things that you cannot sacrifice, and I will line them up before you. I will put knives to their throats, and their lives will be in your hands. The only way to save them will be to fight for me. There is nothing you can do. Accept the inevitable.” With that, he turned, and in a blast of magic, disappeared. And Mary… she closed her eyes. But she didn’t accept the inevitable. She never would.

22

Mary

She was back in her pit, lying on her stomach, staring at the floor beneath her. In her head… did she need to tell you what was in her head? Theodore’s last words spun around and around, forming a cage for her soul, locking away her personality – her wishes, her dreams, everything. The last thing he’d said to her before he disappeared and brought her back here was that in an hour and a half, her life would change for good. It’d already been half an hour. That left an hour until she married Theodore and an hour and a half until she fought for him in the ring. She kept trying to tell herself that Vincent would do something. He’d see her fighting, realize she’d been kidnapped, and call the police, right? But while those words could echo in Mary’s mind, that didn’t mean a great deal. The last week had been a real eyeopener about the devious side of town. There were no rules. The police certainly had no jurisdiction. She had to return to the fact there was a frigging tournament that pitted powerful family against one another for the sole purpose of drawing blood to feed the Devil. She would’ve shivered, if she could have. Theodore knew the only thing he had to do to ensure the success of his plan was to keep her exactly where she was. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to fight before. Every other time she’d been shoved in here, she’d always turned her mind toward discovering a way out. But while Theodore was so determined for her to find her restriction and fight past it when they trained, here, it was as if he knew no matter what she did and how deeply she dug, she wouldn’t fight him off. She didn’t even know where she was located, but she knew she was underground. She also knew she had to be close to one of those Devil seals. The twentieth platform of the subway was all she could think of.

Did that information help her? Not particularly. It wasn’t as if by shoving out a thumb, she might call a ing train to her side. Mary didn’t talk to herself. She had no clue what enchantments were cast on this room, but one thing was clear – Theodore was no fool. He wouldn’t be content to just leave her here without keeping a firm watch on her. It was… over. She closed her eyes, squeezing them as tightly shut as her blocking enchantments would allow. Her injuries had already been healed. As Theodore had fixed her up, he’d warned her it was the last time that would occur. In the ring, if she received injuries, they would be real. Did that send a shudder pitching through her stomach? Did sweat slide across her brow? Nope. It wasn’t the likelihood of future injuries that bothered her. It was the future, full stop. If no one could save her from Theodore… then she’d fight for him in the ring until she died, ha? Not acceptable. If Theodore really had made a pact with the Devil – and all evidence indicated he certainly had – then Mary had to… what? She thought she could hear Hammerstead’s disembodied voice in her mind. She was naught but a level I witch. But then that look Vincent had shot her several times surfaced in her psyche like a ship that would simply not be kept down. Yeah, Mary was only a level I witch. But her exact level of power seemed to be irrelevant. She knew how to fight through most situations that would make other people – far more powerful people – wither and die. Mary clutched that possibility now and used it like a frigging rope. She just had to move. Then she had to get out of here. She’d already figured out that even though there might be enchantments cast on this room, Theodore

would be somewhere else, thoroughly distracted. He would have a lot to plan. She doubted he was getting a tux or a last-minute wedding ring. From the look in his eyes every time he’d discussed the tournament in several hours, he’d assumed it would finally be enough to kill Vincent. In other words, Theodore was planning the frigging apocalypse. That gave her the energy she needed to clench her teeth again, to open her eyes, to stare at the ground stretching out around her. But had anything changed? Had a handy possibility reached up through the stones to offer her safety? Nope. If she wanted a Hail Mary, she’d have to create one for herself. Mary closed her eyes again. And this time, she thought of her aunt. The indomitable Millicent. There hadn’t been a single practitioner anywhere in the country like her. She’d been so powerful, every race in the city had feared her. What would she do in a situation like this? Well, for starters, she wouldn’t be in a situation like this. Had Theodore tried to do anything to her, she would’ve taken him out on the street, headbutted him in public, dragged him to the police station, and probably spanked him for good measure. Mary couldn’t do the same. But the point was, Millicent wouldn’t have given up. She would’ve appreciated that people as powerful and desperate as Theodore always made mistakes. They were inclined toward oversights. For they didn’t wish to believe they were weak. Mary focused. She stared at the pit with a renewed sense of vigor and interest. She closed her eyes. What were the things she could sense? Apart from the stone floor beneath her, it was the demon seal. That dark energy thronged all around her, deepest and scariest toward the left. Mary didn’t have that demon leaf anymore. If she had, maybe she would’ve been able to call a ghost demon to her side – for whatever good that would have achieved. Point was, she had nothing that could interact with that demon seal.

Or did she? Well-placed thoughts, spells, and acts could call the Devil. Even stage I witches were taught that. That’s why you had to be so careful when you were practicing dark magic. It wasn’t the same with light magic, but when you strayed toward the other side of power, you had to accept there were creatures down below that were far stronger than you, and that were just waiting to snack on your soul. Practice your enchantment incorrectly, or get too close to them, and you might find yourself gobbled up. What was Mary saying? That she was about to practice some dark magic just to see what kind of demonic creature she could pull up from Hell? Hardly. But seals like the one she was dealing with weren’t static. They fluctuated, depending on how much power they were forced to interact with. The thing about a magical seal is it usually trumps whatever spell is around it. Really strong seals are programmed to absorb force, too. It’s a security precaution. You wouldn’t want your demon seal failing if some plucky warlock cast a powerful spell too close by. So you would set your demon enchantment to absorb all excess force. If Mary… it kind of sounded crazy, but if Mary could interact with the seal, making it stronger, forcing it to push out further toward her, maybe it would reach into her prison, absorb the spell locking her in place, and give her a way out of here. Well, a way out with a certain cost. She would encourage Hell in the process. It was a heck of a bargain. But Mary couldn’t think of any other way to get out of here, and as every second ticked down, a weight descended on her shoulders. Her heartbeat quickened, and sweat slid between her fingers. Mary closed her eyes even harder. She practically rammed the skin shut. As it crinkled, she sucked a lip into her teeth. She bit it. All the way down. This wasn’t her lightly chewing her flesh as she thought. This was drawing blood for the Devil.

As she chomped down, several lines of blood slid across her chin and onto the ground. She twisted her cheek, locked it against the blood, and ground it into the dirt. Hopefully, even if someone watched her right now, they wouldn’t really know what she was up to. Fortunately dark magic didn’t require you to chant anything out loud. It cared more about how you thought, about the feelings that raged through you. If you turned toward anger, toward greed, toward hatred and cruelty, the Devil would always be there, ready to extend a hand to your soul. Mary didn’t just try to open the door to her dark side. She acted smartly. She couldn’t waste all her magic. She would need to get out of this pit and into the subway beyond – or wherever the heck she was. Squeezing her eyes even harder shut, she paid attention to the demon seal. Sure enough, she thought she felt tendrils of demonic magic reaching into the room, searching for her blood. It was being summoned far quicker than she thought it would. She hadn’t even needed to think too many dark thoughts to encourage it. To help the process along, she threw her mind into what she would do to Theodore when she found him. She might not kill him, but she sure would introduce his face to her fist. Then she’d drag him into the police station and see what kind of bounty he had. He probably didn’t have one – considering he was a so-called upstanding member of the community. But when she made everybody aware of his crimes, he would sink faster than a stone tied to a limousine thrown off the dock. More blood dripped off her mouth. She ground it into the dirt. More and more, she felt the demonic energy push through from the nearby seal. It was hard to describe. Its power was like fingers – but extended ones. Ones that weren’t attached to hands. They still groped and grabbed at her like digits, nonetheless. She felt them sliding underneath her body, not just pushing against the dirt, but interacting with her energy like writhing worms. It would’ve been easy to shiver in an attempt to reject the process. She threw her whole mind into it. She chomped down on her lips one last time, really drawing blood now. It splattered out onto the floor. And with one last negative thought, the demonic

energy in the room increased tenfold. Sparks ruptured out over the walls. She struggled to incline her head at the best of times. This pit was perilously dark anyway. But now as sparks circumscribed the round wall, she saw everything. This room was smaller than she expected. It was about to get a heck of a lot bigger. The demon seal was powerful. So was the spell in this room. The seal would win, though. To do that, it would crunch through every enchantment in its way like a semitrailer driving over overripe peaches. She heard so many explosions and crackles, it was as if she’d shoved her head into the Big Bang. Finally there was a snap. It came from right around her. It was the enchantment that kept her locked to the floor. Mary gasped as soon as it broke. She shot up to one knee. Blood still dripped down her face. She went to pick up a few specks and drop them on the ground but realized the demon seal didn’t need any encouragement. She could see the process of it pushing through the floor and walls now. The image of writhing worms didn’t do it justice. The way it wriggled through matter – through the air, through anything in its way… she couldn’t go there. She shivered. Then she shoved up toward the wall. She rounded her hand into a fist, getting ready to use a burst of her paltry magic to break through the stone wall. She didn’t need to. She hadn’t been kidding – this place was completely decked out with enchantments. And as more of them broke, succumbing to the demon seal, a whole section of wall just to her left exploded inward. Mary gasped, fell to her knees, and locked her arms around her head. Though a few stones banged against her shoulders and legs, they didn’t leave significant injuries. As the dust settled and she let her arms drop, she realized there was now a handy hole out of here. She spied a dark tunnel. Who knew where it would lead to? But at least it would lead far away from Theodore. Counting her lucky stars, she threw herself out of the room. If she’d paid attention, she would’ve realized the energy of the demon seal surged. It rushed toward her, forming this etheric groping hand right behind her shoulder. But she was too quick. She rocketed out of that hole, and in doing so, went further than

the demon seal could reach. She immediately struck rough stones under her feet. She stared down at them, bit her lip, licked up her blood, and thrust forward. She could run. Hell, if anything, she could run faster than she’d been able to run before she’d been captured by Theodore. Now the spell holding her down had broken, she could appreciate she was fitter than she’d ever been. Of course she was. Theodore had intended to use her to defeat Vincent. … Had she really thought this through? Had Theodore intended that Mary fight Vincent personally? Could she ever have a hope of defeating someone as powerful as a Flagstaff, even if she somehow removed her restriction? “No. Theodore wouldn’t have pitted me against Vincent. It would be… what was her name? Grendel,” Mary managed. Big mistake. Was that a rumble back in the direction of the demon seal? What, was a mere name enough to activate the seal further? Shuddering and realizing there was no time to think about this – just time to run – Mary threw herself into the task. She sprinted down a long, rocky stone tunnel until abruptly it stopped. It opened out onto a subway tunnel. She could tell that, because a train chose that exact moment to shoot past. She screamed and flattened herself back against the rough wall of her tunnel. As her shoulders impacted the stones, they had a slightly insubstantial magical quality. Maybe this was a guess, but it felt like it was some disguise spell. When she ran out into the subway tunnel beyond, she would be in the real world once more. She stared at the electrified rails warily and finally darted her head out of the tunnel. Hopefully the fact a train had just gone past meant that another wouldn’t follow it. Mary didn’t want to end her brilliant escape by being squashed flat by hurtling metal. Soon realizing she had no option but to throw all caution to the wind, she pushed away from the safety of that tunnel. She lingered for a moment, turning her head over her shoulder, staring back in the direction of the demon seal. She could still feel it – heck, it was like it had its hooks into her. She rubbed her hand flat down her chest, her top rumpling. Then she turned determinedly. Mary jumped into the subway tunnel.

She saved herself. But there was no saving the city, and there sure as heck was no saving Vincent. Both were doomed.

23

Mary

She navigated her way through the tunnel, running as carefully as she could between the tracks. The whole while, she kept her senses peeled. It was a heck of a task. The mental load of paying so much attention to the dangerous tracks around her, whilst peeling her hearing and extended magical senses, meant that by the time she found a platform and thrust up it, she felt like her head would pop. She expected there to be other commuters. There wasn’t. This platform looked abandoned. Worse? It sure as heck felt abandoned. The very first sense she got was of breath rushing off the top of some tombstone, of a crypt that had never been touched, of death, in all its quiet, endless glory. She wrapped her arms around her middle, clenched her teeth, and shuddered against the sudden cold that reached out to meet her. It felt worse than subzero – as if she’d been transported right to the heart of the Arctic. She turned her head over her shoulder, wondering if she should just jump back into the subway tunnel and find another platform. She didn’t have time. She had to get up onto the street, find some way to Vincent and… and what? Now she’d experienced exactly how twisted this town was, she realized she couldn’t exactly just dig her head into the sand and ignore it. She could run free, but that wouldn’t save anyone but her. So what was her only other option… to marry Vincent? She didn’t know why she said marry. What he offered was a clear emotionless transaction. And it would be her only chance to fight in the ring, right? She ran forward, each step sounding as if she was crushing icicles under her

shoes, and she stared at one hand. Could she fight in the ring? It all depended on her restriction, didn’t it? She still hadn’t interacted with it, still hadn’t even really found it in her body. She was more certain than ever it was there. It was just waiting for her to find it, just waiting for her to rip it out like someone yanking the lid off some kind of long-lost treasure. She’d been reluctant to do it for Theodore – for obvious reasons. But what about for Vincent? If he gave her the right training, and the right reason, she could do it, right? She slapped her cheek. “I can’t even believe I’m thinking this.” Her words were weak. Her footsteps, however, were strong. She came around the side of the platform. Then she found the location of all that coldness. An ice spell spun in the air. The area directly around it was covered with frost. The crystalline filaments caught nonexistent light, glinting like tiny knives. Mary’s teeth were already clenched. Now they shuddered and jittered around like stones in a can. She had to call on her magic. Not much, though. Any other practitioner might summon their full magic, creating themselves the energetic equivalent of a massive fur-lined coat. Mary just sent a few charges zipping and shuddering into her stomach and back. Enough that she wouldn’t freeze on the spot. She approached the ice spell warily. She took a single step toward it and crunched something underfoot. She’d already been walking on ice, but now it morphed, sensing her. Maybe it hadn’t detected her previously because she hadn’t turned her magic on. Now she’d called on her power, the spell reacted. She didn’t get a warning alarm – just a pulse of adrenaline that told her she’d disturbed the wrong thing. Tendrils of glittering blue-white ice suddenly shot out from the heart of the spinning spell. It smashed into her chest and pushed her backward. She slammed onto the frost-covered concrete, spluttering as the ice twisted down her side, reached her leg, and pulled her in like a fish. Mary squealed.

She wouldn’t survive if she struck that ice core. She would be frozen forevermore. This was a trap. Insurance in case anybody came across this section of the subway. Or maybe it was a trap set up specifically for her in case she escaped. Didn’t matter. She’d fallen for it, and now, now there was no escaping. She screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see herself turn into a snow statue, thank you very much. It didn’t happen, though. She heard a hiss, then opened half an eye to see something hurtling through the air. It was covered in sparks, flaming magic, too. But it wasn’t enough to disguise the fact it had a brilliant, fat, fluffy tail. Frederick landed right beside her, his body so magical, the ice beneath him melted. He slashed his claws to the side, and they cut right through the ice spell holding her as easily as someone using a chef knife on an ant. Mary gasped with relief and shot backward. Frederick remained between her and the spinning ice crystal. “Where have you been? Never mind. Questions can come later. I will feed you magic. You must destroy the spell. Preferably before it transmits information to its master.” “What?” “Get ready. I’m going to charge you with magic. Hit the spell like you mean it,” Frederick warned. Mary had no option. Magical force erupted off Frederick, spinning twice above his head then shooting toward Mary. Her arms jolted out wide at the force of the move. Her teeth clenched, and her head extended backward. Her messy hair fluttered around her face, whipping around her cheeks as more power shot into her body. “Now,” Frederick roared. Mary was forced to rocket forward, her sandshoes squeaking against the ice. She leaped into the air. She’d fought with magic before, but not like this. Wow. Was this what it felt like to be a powerful witch? Hell, to be anything other than a

level I practitioner? There was no time to enjoy the sensation. She reached the ice crystal. She twisted around, and she punched it. Her fist was so encapsulated by Frederick’s force, she couldn’t even see her own knuckles. She could feel them, all right, as they smashed into the ice crystal’s exterior. It was protected by strong magic. It tried to rebuff Mary, but her physical and magical attack was stronger. “That’s it,” Frederick roared. “One last attack.” She landed down on her feet directly under the ice crystal. If she’d dared stray this close previously, she would’ve turned into an icicle. But Frederick’s magic as it chased around her body protected her. Her hair continued to flutter over her face. She thought she saw charges of magic slicing across her skin, too. She would’ve looked like a heck of a sight, but who cared about appearances right now? The ice crystal spun once in the other direction. “It’s getting ready to explode. Attack it first,” Frederick roared. Again, Mary didn’t have the option to say no. Frederick charged her with power, his fur standing on end as force ruptured out of him and sank into her. She screamed. She knew how much of a waste of time it was to do anything other than fight during a battle, but you try staying silent as mega bolts of magical force were thrust into you. Mary leaped into the air again. She twisted around, and she brought her knee up. It was just as she could see the ice spell getting ready to shatter. Its force bulged against its exterior, and it was met with the sound of cracking ice like somebody going to town on a frozen lake with a chisel. It was deceptively quiet at first, but it would grow. And grow it did. Mary’s foot slammed into it. Then the sound of thousands of sheets of shattering glass met her ears. “Give it everything you’ve got,” Frederick screamed. Her foot remained there, rammed into the ice crystal’s side, magic still pumping

through her. She screamed, and she sure as heck gave it everything she had. She even used a few sparks of her own magic. Finally it was enough. Just as the ice spell looked as if it was going to explode and take them – and the entire subway – with it, it succumbed to Mary’s attack. There was a fizzle – one that was a heck of a letdown. The ice crystal kind of morphed, expanding a little before it shriveled in on itself. It stopped floating, fell onto the subway platform, and cracked. Then it disappeared, and all the ice disappeared with it. Mary landed on one knee and one hand, her hair forming a curtain over her face. Then, slowly, as if she was being operated by pulleys, she lifted her head up. She stared at the spot where the spell disappeared. Not for long. Frederick jolted in front of her. His wet nose pressed right up against hers. She didn’t back off. She blinked at him. He looked at her, and a peeved expression crumpled his brow. “Where have you been for the last several days?” “I was captured by Theodore. He wants me to fight in the tournament for him. I managed to escape.” “Good. Let’s get out of here.” “How did you find me?” “I am your familiar. I’m capable of tracking you down. But wherever Theodore took you, I couldn’t find you. When you escaped, I finally figured out where you were.” “You mean we’re beyond his magic now?” Mary asked hopefully as she pushed to her feet. It was just a second too late. The words still reverberated in her head as she turned. But that would be when she saw something slam down against the top of the stairs only several meters to her side. Frederick hissed and jerked back, his tail flashing wildly. “We’re too late.”

She instinctively backed off toward him. “What do you mean we’re too late? Are you telling me he’s on his way?” “That ice crystal was clearly his spell. It was likely to prevent anybody from finding his secret base down here.” “Is he on his way?” Mary demanded again. “We have to stay on the move. We will find some other way to escape. Come on.” Frederick raced toward the platform. Without even bothering to check for trains, he just jumped down into it. “That could be dangerous,” Mary hissed. Frederick paused. He turned and looked at her. “Remove the word could from your statement. It will be dangerous. Yet less dangerous than hanging around here.” He had a point. Crunching down onto her knees, she jumped off the platform. She landed with two thumps beside him. Her sweaty hair sliced over her face, and she thumbed it behind her ears. Then the slightest smile flickered across her lips. “Thanks for coming and saving me.” “You are my witch, and I am your familiar. It comes with the territory.” “Sure.” She went to pat him on the head but realized he was far too dignified a feline to want to be stroked anymore. She settled for peering into the darkness. “Do you really think we can get out of here? Can we anyone?” It didn’t take long for him to twitch his whiskers and shake his head angrily. “There is a communication block down here.” “That’s great. What do we do?” “Keep going until we find a thin section of magic we can break through.” “I don’t have a lot of power,” she said miserably. What little magic she had possessed previously she’d now pretty much used up. She stared at her hands glumly.

“I am here to make up for your deficiencies, Mistress. You fought well. Do not question yourself.” “Speaking of that,” it brought her mind back to the fight, “you didn’t just fight well. You are stupidly powerful,” she spluttered. “I do not know what it means to be stupidly powerful, but I will generously take it as a compliment.” “I can see why your witch wanted you back.” “While I certainly was powerful before I left her, most of this force comes from your training.” “I never trained you.” “When a familiar is growing into their powers, they are at their most vulnerable stage. Should they receive exceptional training, they can dig deep, beyond which most familiars can reach, and become exceptionally powerful. I shouldn’t need to remind you that the particular training you gave me was fighting a demon tree and four demon ghosts. I do not think we could find another familiar anywhere in the city that received such experience.” She conceded his point with a shrug. Then she focused on the tunnel. She hoped that should a train shoot past, Frederick would warn her. Speaking of trains. She frowned. “This area has to be connected to the subway somehow. I’ve seen and heard trains.” “I’m sure it is. That does not mean we’ll be able to interact with the real world. There is strong illusion magic around here.” “Awesome. Wait. Do we even need to fight it?” “Sorry?” “Why don’t we just find somewhere, hide, and wait out the next two hours? I don’t know what Theodore has done. But he certainly called some kind of special tournament, all to show me off. But he won’t have me.” “Do not assume from that that the good people will automatically win. Men like

Theodore do frantic things when they face resistance.” All Mary could do was agree. Without wanting to, she closed her eyes, and she got a perfect image of Theodore’s face pressed up close to hers. She could see the desperation in his eyes, all right, watch it burning deeply in his pupils as if he’d been stupid enough to shove flaming coals down there. She licked her lip. Frederick turned to her. “How did you escape, anyway?” “Wherever I was being kept, there was a demon seal nearby. I offered a sacrifice of my blood and negativity, and it broke through the spell holding me in place.” There was a pronounced silence. She thought this was where Frederick would congratulate her for her sharp intelligence. He hissed, this long, protracted movement of clear worry. “A dangerous game, Mistress.” “What choice did I have?” “While I can commend you on the fact it worked, it was still dangerous. Have you forgotten that Hell wants you?” Her brow scrunched up, feeling as if somebody had used an industrial vice to crush it together. “Have I forgotten that Hell wants me? Yeah, because Hell doesn’t want me,” she said clearly. Her voice didn’t shake. Why would it? “You came across a demon tree. Four ghost demons hunted you. Hell wants you,” Frederick said flatly. “That was just a coincidence. I disturbed that tree. I was looking for you, ? Maybe Hell wants you?” “Unlikely. I suggest next time you’re close to a demon seal, you do not voluntarily give it your blood. For now… for now we can be thankful that you escaped.” “Yeah. But what do we do if we can’t get out of here?” He paused.

Mary almost ran into his side. He tilted his head back. His whiskers twitched. The fur along the back of his body stood on end. “What is it?” she hissed. “Are you detecting an enemy?” She rounded her hands into fists, twisted, and took up the rear guard. “I do not detect an enemy, but maybe… maybe I’m detecting another option.” “Ha?” She strained her neck over her shoulder to stare down at him. His tail flashed from left to right. “You may not be able to get out of the subway, but maybe you can find Theodore instead.” A race of nerves tumbled down her back. “While I would love to drag him into the police station for what he did to me, I am realistic about my chances,” she spluttered. “He is an ancestral vampire, and he has way more resources at his fingertips than I can imagine.” “I do not mean finding him to fight him. I think… I think we may be close to the tournament,” he whispered. Mary froze. It took an age to twist her lips. “What?” He turned to her fully now. “I think we might be close to the tournament. It makes sense.” “Why?” “Because the tournament exists to give blood to the Devil seals. And you encountered one only recently.” “Yeah… but….” She could say the word but, yet she couldn’t follow it up with anything. Everything became trapped in her throat. Without her consciously doing it, her senses pushed out. She’d already ascertained that this section of the subway, wherever it was, was different. This strange feeling pervaded it. It had an unusual, almost itchy kind of energy. It spoke of a lot of power, too. But not the usual power she was used to.

If you walked into a warlock den, you’d feel magic, all right. If you were stupid enough to flatten your tongue against your palate, it would zip there like sherbet. Scratch the paint on the walls, and you’d see force sparking away like lightning in the clouds. Yet that would be materially different from magic that’d been practiced repeatedly to harm others. If you came across the scene of an old, brutal magical war, the sense in the air would sur anything you’d get elsewhere, even in a hellish city like Bridgetown. What she was trying to say in a roundabout way was that she got the sense of fights close by. Fights that’d been going on for years – bloody, brutal, vicious. They were a perfect accompaniment to the negative thoughts she had sacrificed to the seal previously. It was enough that she flattened a hand on her chest, her breath grinding to a halt. “You’re right,” she said half a second later when she finally unstuck her lips. “Yes. We must find the tournament. It’s the only way.” “But Theodore will be there,” Mary hissed. “As soon as he sees me, he’ll make me fight for him.” “But Vincent will be there too,” Frederick pointed out. Mary froze. He was right. She had to stop herself from rocketing forward with all her earthly speed. “Even… even if we get to the tournament, what then?” “We’ll figure it out. Come, Mistress. The future awaits.”

24

Vincent

Empty didn’t do him justice. Mary was still gone. It’d been days now. Days…. He stood there in front of his mirror. He couldn’t even dress properly. His shirt was half undone. He stared into his reflection, stared so deeply into his eyes, it was like his gaze attempted to gouge them out of his face. His hand dropped. He touched his signet ring. It had once belonged to his father. His father, who had lost his life for Vincent in the ring. Vincent made the mistake of turning, and he saw the family photo above his dressing table. He saw his sisters, his brothers, his mother. All of them died in the tournament. All for Vincent. Now another person would have died for him needlessly. There was a knock on the door. He wanted to ignore it. His brain simply couldn’t process more information – he wanted to shut it all out, shut it all out and hit pause forevermore. He still turned. “Yes?” “She’s here,” Bates said as he opened the door quietly. He had the same haunted look crumpling Vincent’s brow. Bates, when he hadn’t been by Vincent’s side, had been ing the search for Mary. There was nothing. She’d disappeared without a trace. Vincent had brought the situation to the council. The council… they didn’t care.

Nobody thought that Mary was a significant enough witch to track down. In their minds, this was naught but another needless crime in an already violent city. “She’s ready,” Bates said. Then he looked at Vincent pointedly. Vincent glanced at his shirt. Yes. Petunia was ready, but Vincent wasn’t. He settled his fingers on his chest. He did up the last few buttons. They felt like tightening a noose. Then he turned. He didn’t bother to grab his tuxedo jacket. There was no need to be formal. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d married somebody. Each time, it became less and less significant. Bates cleared his throat. “I don’t need a jacket,” Vincent said. “No, but you kind of need the ring,” Bates pointed out quietly. Vincent let out a heavy breath, realizing how much of a fool he’d been. He turned. The ring sat there on his dresser, just underneath the photo of his family. He hesitated and plucked it up. Securing it against his palm, he walked out the door, Bates behind him. “Is she waiting in the chapel?” Vincent asked. “Yep.” Vincent walked toward it. He was half determined, half lost. When Petunia was a Flagstaff and she’d be able to fight for him in the ring, it would give him a chance to finally claw back some power in this city. Maybe, just maybe it would help him find Mary too. That was his only means to help her now, right? She could no longer be helped, a treacherous voice hissed in his head. Several days was a mighty long time for his enemies to do something to Mary. By the time he reached the chapel, a cold sweat covered him. The door opened, and there was Petunia.

He couldn’t describe the wedding dress she wore, the low-slung back, the embroidered silk, the way her hair was tousled and pinned at the back of her head. He couldn’t even see her, let alone force words to make sense in his addled brain. He reached her. Her eyes were on him. His were on the ring in his hand. Finally he yanked his attention up and onto her. “Are you ready?” “I’m ready to save the city,” she said clearly. He nodded. The ceremony began. Bates didn’t magically produce an organ and start playing on it dramatically or something. But a magical spell picked up underneath Vincent’s feet. It lit up the chapel. At first, it was only a gentle glow, but that magic spread and spread and spread. It climbed the walls. It reached the glorious stained-glass window at the back of the room. He watched, but only with half an eye as magic lit up his family seal. But Petunia stared at it. It wasn’t the first time she would’ve seen old family magic like this. Her eyes still lit up with wonder. “I heard rumors of how beautiful the chapel was. I guess I’m lucky to see it for myself finally.” She reached out to the stained-glass window. If Vincent had been more on the ball, he would’ve pointed out there was no finally. Petunia had rejected him far too many times to count. If she had wished to see this chapel, she could’ve done so at any time. He played with the ring, waiting for the spell to take hold. Even when he’d married Amy, he hadn’t been distracted like this. The stained-glass window lit up with all its beautiful fiery glory. Petunia gasped. She reached further toward it. Energy circled around in the middle of the glass, chasing this way and that. It looked like fireflies, like stars

come to life. It spoke of the once great power of the Flagstaff family. Ancestral vampires were not simply strong because they had deep bloodlines. They were strong because their families concentrated that power. That power was represented by the stained-glass window. “Beautiful,” Petunia whispered. The spell had run its course. It was time. Vincent turned automatically toward her. He held the ring out. There wasn’t a tender look on his face. He wouldn’t even look at her. This was completely and utterly transactional. He wanted to get it done and— Bates had retreated from the room. But now the door was thrust open. Vincent heard pounding footsteps. He yanked his head over his shoulder, his heart telling him one thing. “She’s been found?” Vincent stammered. Petunia’s eyes locked on him immediately. Bates came to a stop. He was out of breath for whatever reason. He could run a marathon, then run another, and he still wouldn’t be out of breath. Now it looked as if someone had punctured his lungs. He locked his hands on his knees. But then he looked up, and he shook his head once. Vincent’s world came tumbling down yet again. He almost dropped the ring as his hand swung loosely by his side. It took him a second to realize that even if Mary hadn’t been found, there was a reason for Bates’s ill-timed interruption. “What’s going on?” Vincent demanded. “Theodore—” “Theodore what?” Vincent jerked toward Bates, shoes squeaking loudly.

“Theodore has called a special tournament. With you,” Bates spat. Vincent stood there, cold and alone even though there were two other people in the room with him. It took an age for him to twitch one lip, another age for him to force words out of his constricted throat. “What?” “He’s called a special tournament, and the council has accepted.” “On what grounds?” Petunia asked the question Vincent couldn’t. There was only one thing Vincent could think of. Theodore had Mary. It’d always been a possibility that Theodore had captured Mary, but he wouldn’t use her in the ring, surely? He had Amy and countless other strong family practitioners. This…. Vincent jerked forward. He had to get to the tournament, see this with his own eyes. But Petunia grabbed his wrist. She did so with a grip that couldn’t be broken – not by a crowbar, not by an explosion, and certainly not by him. “Something’s going on. Clearly Theodore doesn’t think that you will have a wife in time to fight for you. We need to marry first,” she intoned. Vincent couldn’t think. But a part of him knew she was right. If he showed up at the tournament with no one to fight in his corner, he wouldn’t be able to save Mary. He’d fight Grendel… and… and indeed. He would fall to Hell forevermore. Bates looked from him to Petunia. “Theodore petitioned the council as a direct challenge to you, sir. He said you’re no longer powerful enough to hold the most important role in the city, said you don’t have the forces to fight for you. Said he’s going to prove that today.” Petunia kept a hand around Vincent’s wrist. “Which means you must marry now, Vincent. Come on.” She reached toward the ring. Vincent’s fingers twitched around it only once. He didn’t shove the ring back in

his pocket, even though something wanted him to. He turned back to Petunia. The spell still ran its course. The stained-glass window was lit up. His father had once told him that it was more than a mere light show. When that stained-glass window glowed with the power of the Flagstaff family spell, it woke up the spirits of all the Flagstaff family. It allowed them to watch a marriage, even though they couldn’t be there in person. And what a sight his forefathers and foremothers would see now. Here Vincent was, the last of their kind, likely minutes away from losing everything. Petunia kept her hand around his. “We need to marry now. Theodore has no clue. When I fight his wife in the ring, we’ll win. It’ll knock him back, maybe even defeat him.” “He’s smarter than that,” Theodore said. His brow scrunched down. Vincent… Vincent’s intuition warned him to stop. To find out what was going on. But reason told him something else. He tightened his hand around the ring. It was just as Petunia grabbed him harder. “We need to do this now. It’ll take a few minutes to me with the tournament.” “Yes.” Vincent went to hand her the ring. He should get down on his knee. He should make some show of it. He should at least pretend he was marrying for something other than his own survival. Why bother with the pretense? She knew exactly what she was getting into. That was the origin of the determined glint in her eye. She accepted the ring. She crammed it onto her finger. The stained-glass window lit up even brighter. Tendrils of an ancient spell pushed out of it, weaving their way gently through the air. Petunia knew what to do. She lifted her hand. As the ring settled on her finger, that spell reached her. It wrapped around and around the ring, binding its force.

The whole chapel lit up with this godly, ethereal glow. Vincent might technically be from an undead race, but that didn’t mean the heart of the Flagstaff family power was dark. They had always worked for the good of the earth, not against it. The power in the room glowed and glowed and glowed until finally it diminished. It remained in part, glimmering around Petunia’s finger. She spluttered. She brought her hand down. She stared at the ring, the diamond now glinting under its own power. He didn’t move and kiss her. He didn’t even twitch a hand up to feel as his signet ring turned into a golden band. He nodded once. Then he turned as fast as he could. He threw himself after Bates as they ran through the door. If Theodore had Mary, it meant that not only had Vincent lost, but Theodore might have been planning this from the beginning. Had he found out Mary had a restriction? Or had it merely been Mary’s fight with Amy? Or was there something far more devious going on here? Vincent could only go back to the fact Mary had a restriction. He still had no clue what it restricted, but if whatever it was was let out, things would change forever.

25

Mary

They were getting close. Mary didn’t need to constantly check in with Frederick to confirm that. The sense of the tournament now shuddered in her clenched jaw. It wound around her chest, rising and falling with her pounding heart. “This power is insane,” she complained for about the fifth time as she rubbed her chest. “It is proof of your condition that you can even feel it,” Frederick noted. “Sorry?” Her brow clamped down. “Proof of my condition? What does that mean?” “I’m referring to your restriction. It is proof of what your aunt said. Few other practitioners would know that the tournament is nearby based on feelings alone.” Mary paused. “I’m sorry. Go back to the bit about my aunt.” Frederick spun. “I failed to tell you something. In the shock of finding you and attempting to escape, I omitted that I spent the last several days researching your condition, just as I promised.” Mary’s jaw dropped open. Hell, she could’ve lost the bones as they turned into dust. “What?” Real fear curdled her gut. She’d been thinking of her restriction for the past several days – it wasn’t as if Theodore had allowed her to consider anything else. But… could it really have something to do with her aunt? Could her aunt really have lied to her?

“I investigated the orphanage. I found a book,” Frederick said, his voice dropping low. “What do you mean you found a book?” Mary could only just be heard. Her words couldn’t push out of her rapidly constricting throat. All she could do was see her aunt’s smiling face and all the wisdom her aunt had imparted over the years. Wisdom, and lies, apparently. “You do have a restriction. Millicent was aware of this. And she knows how you can break past it, too.” That floored Mary. She came to a skidding stop, her shoes churning up a rough section of dirt beneath her. “What?” “Wisdom.” “Sorry?” “Your aunt said that you can momentarily break through your restriction if you are wise enough.” A moment ago, Mary had assumed she would get enough information that she’d be able to break through her restriction on the spot. She’d hoped everything would finally make sense. This? Was the letdown of the century. Her lips were white, shaking, cold. “Wisdom? What does that mean?” He frowned. “I assumed you would know. It was underlined three times.” She grabbed her face. She turned her nails in. “I have no idea what she means. Wisdom was everything to my aunt. She said you were only truly alive when you were wise. That doesn’t help me break through the seal.” She locked a hand on her stomach again. Frustration rose through her, as powerful as any explosion. Frederick twitched his whiskers. “There must be more to it. Perhaps there is another section of the book that can only be accessed by you? We will find it.” “I could really use that information now. If only I could break through my

restriction, I’d have a chance.” “Our only chance is to find Vincent,” Frederick repeated the plan. … He was right. Mary followed. Sorry, most of the time she led the way. They walked deeper and deeper into the subway. Or at least deeper and deeper into subterranean tunnels. Yeah, occasionally she thought she heard a nearby train, but it was blocked off from her by thick spells. She might see the walls shaking, see a little dust coming down from the ceiling, but she fortunately wasn’t flattened by anything. She was deep in the bowels of the city now, and the magic of the tournament reached out to her. It had this almost magnetic pull on Mary. The closer she got, the more she thought she was being reeled in. Frederick became perilously quiet, too. You could have dropped a bomb. Neither of them would’ve turned around nor stopped. Mary came to a darkened section of tunnel. At the end was a door. She raced toward it but paused before she settled her hand on the old, ancient carved handle. Even from here, she could feel the Devil's magic. “There will likely be guards in there, Theodore’s men, too. We must find Vincent immediately.” “If we can’t find him?” she whispered. “We will do what we can.” That wasn’t a plan. It wasn’t even a wish. It was a generalized statement about life. Everybody always did whatever they could. That didn’t mean they would be successful. Nor did it mean they were ever ready to face the forces lining up against them. Mary locked a breath in her chest and settled her fingers on the handle. It reacted to her magic. That didn’t mean she used magic to open it. It used her magic to

open itself. It bit into her, invisible mouths locking around her power and wrenching several droplets out. She knew better than to scream, even though she wanted to shriek at the top of her lungs. The door creaked open. She yanked her hand back. Then she saw a clean corridor. Beyond, she thought she heard cheering, the thumping of music, and the electric feel of a crowd out for bloodlust. She shuddered. Frederick pressed up close against her foot. He angled his head back, worry creasing his little face. “We’ll be fine. Come on.” He darted forward. Mary followed him. She didn’t need to close the door, as a gust of nonexistent wind closed it for her. She turned, straining over her shoulder, staring at it, wondering if this would be the stupidest thing she’d ever done. She walked down that cold, echoing concrete corridor. She was drawn in by the sound of the crowd. It wasn’t just the cheering – it was the fact she could feel their collective urge to see violence. Mary was hardly innocent. Okay, okay, as a private eye, it wasn’t as if she’d encountered many vicious cases. Though sometimes, she had faced wicked cat kidnappings. Not her point. She’d always assumed she’d seen the dark side of the city. She’d seen nothing yet. They kept walking until abruptly the concrete corridor ended. It didn’t open out into the bowels of the tournament. It opened right out into the crowd. She could see people amassing, old seating arranged up and around in a stadium setting. Below was a ring. Mary shuddered. Frederick said nothing. His ears were pricked, his tail flashing. He watched the crowd right in front of him. If anyone did anything, he’d be ready.

Ready for what? Mary stared at the backs of the people in front of her. She thought she even recognized some. They were well-to-do vampires and warlocks. Was… was every powerful magician in town aware of this bloodsport? Did they all come here to let off steam? You know, the kind doctors down at the hospital? The staid bankers and ants from the office blocks downtown? The stately old vampire elders who espoused wisdom and peace in the opinion sections of the daily paper? Were they all normal on the surface until they descended under the streets of Bridgetown to watch people violently beat each other half to death? Frederick pushed close. He wrapped his tail around her leg, nuzzling her quickly. Then straining his head back, he nodded once then inclined his face to the left. Seriously? What was the plan? When Theodore found her, he’d chase her down. He’d marry her, and he’d force her to fight in the ring. If she thought there was someone who could help her, she was officially out of luck. These people wanted blood. That wasn’t the only thing. Beyond them, throbbing under the floor and collecting in her shadow, loomed the demon seal. She could feel it here far more easily than she’d ever been able to feel it before. Even when she’d entered that squat building via the demon tree, it hadn’t felt like this. She could sense Hell welling up underneath her feet. It was like a tidal wave. It was kept back, but only by the tiniest wall. Her teeth chattered violently, saliva filling her mouth. Frederick walked away, making his way around the back of the crowd. His neck stretched to the left. It was clear he was searching for any sign of Vincent. So what? So what if they found him? Mary could run at him – she could beg him to save her. But one look at this crowd, and she finally realized he likely couldn’t. He’d be out of his depth, too. She’d seen that in his eyes, in his sorry stare every time he’d talked about the tournament. He was a man who was rapidly diminishing in power.

Theodore was on the up. … Mary had to do something. Even if she got out of the tournament and ran, Theodore would come to find her. If it wasn’t him, it would be someone else. She darted her gaze down. She could see the seats closest to the ring. They were far fancier. Even from behind, she recognized some of the most powerful magical families in town. She couldn’t see their faces. Irrelevant. She knew what they were thinking, knew their dark feelings. The demon seal was thinnest all around them. Maybe Theodore wouldn’t catch her. Maybe they would instead. Mary… there was no one who could save her. No one but herself. She backed off. Somebody shoved her in the shoulder. She turned to see a prominent news anchor. The guy swore at her and moved off. He didn’t recognize her. Others would. Mary was now on a tightrope. She was right in the middle of it, in fact. She didn’t have the balance to teeter here for long. She had to decide which direction to go in. “Found him,” Frederick said excitedly. He rushed off down through the crowd. It opened, and Mary saw Vincent. He wasn’t seated. He stood near the ring, his head scanning the crowd. He… he was looking for her, right? All she had to do was reach his side…. She clenched her teeth. But reach his side, and nothing would change. Mary had to do something desperate. If there was one thing her aunt had taught her, it was that you couldn’t back down from a fight. You look for other people to save you, and they’ll relieve you

of your power soon enough, even if they don’t intend to do it. Life asks you to keep digging deep. So does magic. So Mary dug deep and deeper. She pushed toward the edge of the crowd. No one had recognized her yet. She slipped in behind a group that hadn’t even given her a second glance. She paid attention to the demon seal, attention to where it was thickest and thinnest. She lost sight of Frederick. He’d already itted he’d be able to track her down with their familiar connection. She just… had to find a chance. She didn’t know the rules of the tournament, had no clue who could fight in it, but it had to be powerful families, not just vampires. As she walked around the upper ring, she gazed down at the VIP seating. She saw warlocks, witches – sorceresses too. That – that made her ground to a halt. If the most powerful families could fight in the tournament, what about hers? Mary was going out on a limb, going so far out, she knew in a second, it would crack and send her crashing down into Hell. She had no other option. Millicent had been the most powerful sorceress in all of Bridgetown. At her height, she should have been able to fight even Vincent, let alone Theodore. Heck, plenty of other people in the Lou family had been powerful, too. Far back, one of her uncles had been a general in the army. In other words, the Lou family was practically magical royalty in this city. And maybe… maybe that would buy Mary some currency.

She strained her head up. She looked for some kind of official building. Pretty hard, considering the bloodthirsty crowd, the pumping music, and the spreading negativity from the Devil seal. She narrowed her eyes. She finally found a building that looked important. She took a breath, settling it deep in her chest, even though it wanted to wriggle right out, punch a hole through her heart, and keep going. This was mad, it kept telling her, utterly and completely mad. There was no chance it would work. If the Lou family was ed or could be ed for the tournament, her aunt would’ve told her, right? Not necessarily. It wasn’t like Millicent had bothered to mention the fact Mary had a powerful restriction in her body. Mary stuck behind other people as much as she could. But when she made it to the stairs that led to the official building, there was no one around. So she had to walk up herself. She hadn’t seen Theodore yet. But she thought she heard people saying his name, reverentially, too. Maybe they were fans – maybe they were staff here to track Mary down. “Just do it,” Mary hissed. She placed a hand on the railing, and she climbed the stairs. “Who the Hell are you?” people stopped at the base of the stairs and asked. They brought attention to her – just when she didn’t need it. She turned over her shoulder. It was at exactly the wrong moment. She saw down through the crowd. And there, in the VIP section – Theodore. Even from here, she knew his eyes exploded with attention, the kind of attention that wanted to reach right through reality, punch through any wall, and wrap around her like a noose. She thought she heard him screaming something. She should’ve thrown herself up the stairs, right? She didn’t. She rose up them like a queen. Like she had every right to be here. She reached the door.

It opened. She expected the council to be inside or something. There was no one alive. There was a spell. A floating scroll, to be exact. Her gaze darted across it. She could see the signatures of every important family in town. Right at the top was the Flagstaff signature. She saw the rotating symbol of the Flagstaff family seal, too. She heard footfall behind her – or rather paw-fall. It was Frederick. “What are you doing? You brought attention to yourself. Footage of you is being played across the magical viewscreen.” Mary twisted her head and stared through the window. Sure enough, the massive magical viewscreen in the middle of the room showed her. So much for hiding. Now she heard real footfall behind her. She knew it was Theodore. He was still about 20 meters away, but his breath was practically sliding over her cheeks already. And then… did she hear something else? Vincent screaming her name? She winced. “I found Vincent. We have to get to him.” Frederick dashed for the door, his claws scratching the concrete floor. “It won’t change anything. He can’t save me now.” Mary’s gaze darted over the spell. She thought she’d have to come in here to petition someone to the tournament. That wasn’t the case. This was just a registration book. Albeit one with powerful enchantments cast on it. And one that was just brimming with binding magic. A pen floated above it. Mary snatched it up. Her gaze darted down the line of names. “What are you doing?” Frederick asked, his desperation making it sound like he would crack his little cat throat in two. “The only thing I can do. ing for the tournament under my own name.”

She settled the pen down. Theodore reached the door. It wasn’t closed, but he still kicked it. He shot toward her. She signed her name. She didn’t know if it would work. Did you need something more to for the tournament? Like actual power? Did you need to petition the council? Heck, did you need some kind of blood sacrifice? Or did you just need your name and a strong family line? As soon as Mary’s name was signed, the scroll lit up. Magic darted across its surface, dark and crackling, looking like it’d just come out of the center of some forever-lonely pit. It shot up the pen and into her wrist. Then she felt something binding against her skin just as Theodore grabbed her arm. He tried to yank her back. It was too late. Out of the corner of Mary’s eye, she saw the scroll light all the way up. Then it shook. Something shot out of it. It powered out of the room, then slammed into the screen beyond. Mary strained her neck. So did Theodore, cold dread flattening his cheeks. “A new family has ed the tournament. The Lous.” “No,” Theodore hissed. He re-gripped her wrist now, sinking his fingers all the way in, looking like he wanted to wrench her hand right off. “It means I’m ed now, doesn’t it? Means I can’t fight for you, doesn’t it, Theodore?” she hissed, lips curling in victory. He sliced his head around. He looked at her, real anger marking his brow. “You just signed your own death warrant. You won’t be able to fight for long. You have no one to fight on your behalf. Which means you will be forced to fight greater targets.” “Not so fast,” she spat right in his face. “I already heard what you said back in that pit. I’ll have to fight things at my own power level. Little old me, just a level I witch.” She flattened her hand against her chest.

He brought his face close, his anger like sparking fury, like lightning ready to bolt into her eye sockets. “You have no one else to fight for you. Which means you must fight every round. There are no other level I witches in the tournament. And you will be pitted against each family in turn. You will fight against whomever they select. And they will crush you, Mary. You still can’t access, let alone break through your seal.” “I’ll take my own chances.” She wrenched her hand back, and it worked. Theodore shot a wary glance toward the scroll. Maybe he didn’t dare get in its way. The crowd outside had become quiet in confusion as Mary’s family name had lit up the view screen. But now everyone roared in satisfaction. Mary had to crunch her neck to the side. She saw her own face appear on the massive magical screen. Then something scrolling up past her. Finally, a picture of who she’d face. That picture? It was none other than Amy. Theodore’s lips kinked in satisfaction. “How appropriate. Seems like you are destined to lose to me, on round one, no less.” He got close, pressing a finger right in front of her face. “I’m used to losing.” “But are you used to the rules of the tournament? If you are trounced, and there is no one else to fight for you in the ring, you will lose your ability to fight in the tournament full stop. And the person who is victorious over you? They will pick up your players. You know what that means, Mary? You will become mine anyway.” Her jaw hardened. The crowd chanted outside.

They weren’t chanting her name – just Amy’s. From the sound of their splitting screams? God, they wanted her blood. How could these well-to-do magical practitioners be so brutal? Theodore sneered at her, his gaze darting across her face. Maybe he could read her mind. He leaned in close. “The tournament changes all those it touches. You might come in thinking you have a good heart,” his gaze scissored to her chest, “but you leave it without one. I’ll see you when you lose, Mary. I’ll your treachery, by the way. You’ll pay. You should’ve taken the easy route.” She stopped him at the door with a snarl. “Us Lous never take the easy route. Nor do we ever lose.” He snarled and walked away. “The match begins in a minute. Brace yourself. You might have fought Amy previously. You didn’t win. Today, you will lose.” With those ominous words ringing through her head, Mary turned to Frederick. He just stared at her grimly. Mary had thought she’d won a victory by getting here and ing her name first. She’d just delayed the inevitable. Now not a soul could help her.

26

Vincent

He stood there, terrified as he stared up at the screen. As Mary’s name and likeness played across it, his heart pitched with sheer confusion. Bates stood by his side, his head angled toward the registration house. “What the Hell is going on?” Petunia stood beside them, her expression guarded. But her head was turned toward the registration house, too. Everybody stared at it. It had been decades since somebody had ed for the tournament. Sorry. Theodore had done so recently, but it had been ages since an old Bridgetown family had ed the fray. Though it was an inalienable right for all powerful Bridgetown families to , most of the ancient families already played. “What the Hell is she even doing here?” Bates asked for the thirteenth time. Vincent just stared. The ring lit up. He strained his head upward, watching the viewscreen. The tournament matched Mary to her fighter. It was Amy. Vincent’s heart sank. God knows what had been playing through Mary’s mind, but in ing for the tournament, she’d made herself even more vulnerable. For when she lost – not if – she and all of her family wealth would be swallowed up by the victor.

“This is insane,” Bates said, his voice vibrating with real fear and shock. Vincent couldn’t move a muscle. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do. He heard footfall. Down the steps that led straight to the ring came Theodore. Behind him? Mary. Her familiar was right there, curled close to her legs. But there wasn’t anything the little cat could do. His eyes were wide, clearly aware of how dangerous this was. The crowd bayed for blood. They couldn’t help it. Most of them were perfectly upstanding citizens – when they weren’t here, when they weren’t inundated by the dark magic of the Devil seal. They were just trapped in the same damn game that’d been twisting the heart of this city for so long. A game that had now swallowed up another victim. Vincent knew the rules. He couldn’t rush away from his seat and get to Mary, no matter how much he wanted to. As she walked down behind Theodore, she stared at Vincent, though. Her gaze said it all. Her brow was marked with scratches, and her hair, here and there, flecked with blood. She stared at Theodore warily, too. So he had captured her, then? She’d escaped. Why hadn’t she come to Vincent? He knew the answer. Because even if Mary had thrown herself at him, he couldn’t have done a thing. She’d bought herself a chance. But one that could go nowhere and that would ultimately see her fall into Theodore’s hands anyway. Theodore jumped up beside the ring. Tall, glittering magical fences blocked it off from the crowd. He grabbed one of the fence poles, leaning back as he waved at the crowd. “You’re all here for a fight. I called this special tournament to contest the Flagstaff family rule,” he spat at Vincent, “but now there is a new contender to the tournament, things have changed. As the rules dictate, she must see her

first fight. And it will be with none other than Amy.” He flattened a hand on his chest. The crowd went wild. Mary stood there, just below the ring, hands clenched into fists. Her familiar stood beside her, his hackles so high, it looked as if his fur was going to eject out of his back. Theodore clicked his fingers. The ring electrified. He gestured almost politely toward it. Mary sneered in his face. Vincent’s heart pounded. There was no way, no way she could win. No damn way.…. He stood there, heart pummeling harder than he’d ever felt it before, sweat like the Pacific Ocean, and fear, fear just as violent as it had been the day he lost his father. A hole formed in the fence right in front of Mary. She walked through it. Then the fence closed. The crowd went wild. Dammit. Vincent… had to do something. But what? Mary wasn’t one of his players. If she’d been, he could’ve fought for her. He couldn’t currently fill in the logical consequences of that statement. For if he’d been brave enough and stupid enough to fight for her, he would’ve lost to Grendel. He couldn’t think smart thoughts right now. He couldn’t think at all. All he could do was watch as Mary, as stiff as a plank, stood in the middle of the ring. Amy appeared in a shot of sparks, her magic somehow looking more powerful than it had the last time Vincent had seen her. He said somehow. When Theodore trained his players, he didn’t do so with legal means. He had access to dark spells – ones that would sink deep into a warrior’s body and unlock hidden resources of power. It certainly looked as if Amy had partaken in

such violent transformational magic. For as she spread her hands wide, sparks leaped so high off her skin, it was like they’d split said flesh and burn it to dust. Mary backed off. Theodore laughed. He clapped his hands, leaped down from the ring, and walked over to his VIP seating. All eyes were on him. People told Vincent to sit. He couldn’t move, his body getting stiffer by the second. His stomach clenched, his back seizing up. You could push him – you could shove him in the back with a mining truck. He would remain exactly where he was. “Begin,” a toneless, electronic voice said. Amy wasted no time. She shot forward, her body now pumping with so much force, it looked as if she’d swallowed the magical equivalent of a nuclear blast. Mary didn’t have a chance. She went to round her fists, but Amy ported right behind her. That’s right – transported. It was a complicated spell at the best of times. But to practice it in the tournament, you had to have strong magic indeed – and an even stronger control of your will. Amy had never ported when she’d worked for Vincent. Mary wasn’t quick enough. Amy punched her. Mary fell flat on her face. Vincent saw her as her eyes threatened to roll into the back of her head, as blood splattered from her mouth. The crowd went even wilder. They bayed for blood, sounding like hounds and not humans. Vincent could hear the seal, feel it as the demonic energy in the room tripled. Hell wanted this, it was clear, and it was enjoying every second of this brutal fight. Amy cheered herself, wrenched her hands up, spun in victory, then rocketed close. She struck Mary’s chest, and Mary went flying like nothing more than a glorified feather. She pounded into the ring-fence. It forced her back with a brutal crackle of snapping magic like a crocodile. Mary fell down to her side. More blood splattered from her mouth. Her eyes opened in real fear. It sank into Vincent, grabbed his heart, and tried to wrench it from his chest. “Mary,” he called, his scream drowned out by the violent shrieks of the crowd. Amy danced back again. She was enjoying this. Until Theodore growled loud

enough to be heard above the cheers. “Finish her now. Don’t waste time.” All Vincent should’ve heard was Theodore’s eagerness. He heard something else, too – just there, hidden in his tone as if he’d buried it six feet under. Fear. Vincent sliced his gaze toward Theodore. It was now clear Theodore had been the one to capture Mary. Why? To get her away from Vincent? Theodore had clearly called this fight to use Mary. Though she might not look it, she’d trained over the past several days. It didn’t give her the advantage over someone like Amy, but that wasn’t the point. Theodore feared Mary could win anyway. When Amy didn’t finish the fight, Theodore strained closer to the ring – as close as the magic would let him. “Finish it,” he roared. Finally Amy paid attention. She rocketed forward. Vincent watched, watched as Mary’s eyes widened, watched as the realization she would lose shook through her. He fell into his seat, a broken, wasted man. He’d started this week trying to protect Mary. He might’ve saved her from a slit throat. But he couldn’t save her from this.

27

Mary

This was it. She’d managed to at least hold her own the last time she’d fought Amy, but it was different this time. She was absolutely pumping with magic. It was the equivalent of fighting a bullet. You couldn’t actually punch or kick it. You just had to get out of its way. But though Mary tried to dodge, she couldn’t. She’d already wasted her meager valuable magical resources in escaping. Now? There’d be no escape. She hadn’t been victorious when she’d ed herself for the fight. She’d just paused the inevitable. Sure enough, Amy reached her, wrapped her hands around her throat, and picked her up. She rammed her against the ring, sparks erupting out everywhere. The cheers from the crowd… lord, Mary couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t even imagine how anybody could be that horrible. They sounded like a computer had programmed them. They didn’t have comion anymore. They just wanted blood, blood, and more blood. And all the while, the demonic seal got thinner. It didn’t just love this. It needed it. Every time Mary bled, every time the crowd lost all reason, the seal got thinner and thinner. What would happen when it broke? Mary might not have too many friends in Bridgetown. People might not respect her, either – especially not like her aunt – but that didn’t mean she didn’t stand for the same things Millicent had. She didn’t need love. She didn’t need adoration. And she didn’t want to protect people just because she wanted to be liked. She did it because she could. She rose when someone else couldn’t, because at the end of the day, people lived together, or they died alone. Those wise words echoed through Mary’s brain, but it didn’t stop Amy from smashing her against the shield again. Blood now leaked down from Mary’s nose, though gushed was a more accurate verb. It was like a dam that’d been broken for good. It brought with it crackles of magic, too. It all leaked out of

Mary, all emptying from her one final time. It was… over. She thought that, let the word settle deep into her stomach, but something rose. It wasn’t her restriction, just a little snippet of wisdom her aunt had shared on multiple occasions. It wasn’t over until you personally gave up. That included death. You could be right on the edge of dying, but as you took every breath, you didn’t die – and that was the point. It was the fearful psyche that usually got ahead of itself, that convinced you you were defeated before you were. Yep, statistically speaking, there was no way for Mary to get out of this. A smart person would accept the inevitable. But there was no inevitable when the Lous were involved. Her family was designed to see one chance, then another. It didn’t matter how slim they were, didn’t matter how likely it was that you’d fail. All that counted was every second you held on. So Mary held on, even as Amy smashed her head violently against the magical ring. Mary felt more magic discharging, this time more violently. It sank into her body, felt like it was going to rip her muscles in half. As it erupted over her skin, it made burns scatter out in every direction. Mary was confident in the claim she had never been this injured. But was she dead? Nope. Which meant she still had a chance. “Finish her now,” Theodore roared. Remarkably, Mary could hear it over the blood chanting of the crowd and the sparking of the ring. It was also remarkable she could still her mind long enough to appreciate just how fearful he was. You would think he had this in the bag. Maybe a few days ago, Mary might’ve stalled Amy, but not defeated her. Now with her this powerful, you’d think Mary wouldn’t have a chance at all. But you tell that to Theodore’s frightened tone as he screamed once more for Amy to end it. Amy brought up a hand and locked it around Mary’s throat even harder. She punched her in the gut. Once, twice, three times. She kept going like a piston. Mary’s head lolled to the side. She waited for it to all end. It did not. For always,

a spark remained. The same spark that’d been with Mary her entire life. That spark of not just power, of not just hope, but of the pure, gritty determination you only ever got when you worked with less. Yeah, she wasn’t a sorceress. Sure, she didn’t have Amy’s power – and certainly not her aunt’s. But Mary knew how to scrounge. It was surviving by stealing one more second, then another. One breath, then another. One chance, then another. As Mary settled that wisdom in her heart, she felt her fingers twitch. Amy went to punch her again. But Mary yanked her head out of the way. Amy’s hand sliced into the electrified fence. The crowd paused. No one actually thought Mary was about to win, though. Even she didn’t. Yeah, she’d dodged, but had she found the energy to fight? No. “Now. Finish her now,” Theodore roared with all his might. If Mary could face him, she would’ve likely seen spittle splashing out in every direction. Amy grunted. She thrust her knee up. She powered it into Mary’s sternum. She coughed up blood. Did she fall? No. She swiveled her dark gaze over to Amy. She saw a flicker of fear – dancing right there in the middle of her pupils, fear that could get larger, fear like a spark that could overcome her face if only Mary threw a lit match. “Die already. You’re nothing more—” “Then a level I witch,” Mary finished that statement. She didn’t run from it. She didn’t cringe. She certainly didn’t hide it. She reveled in that fact.

She had little magic to work with. And that had always been the point. If Mary had ever possessed Amy’s raw power, Mary wouldn’t be holding on now. If she’d had a taste of Millicent’s force, she wouldn’t be able to stare Amy in the eye, despite her inevitable defeat. Because when you were weak, but you learned to fight anyway, you achieved something strong people can only ever dream of. You learned how to fight from the soul. Amy punched Mary again. Her head dropped back. Her scalp burned against the sparking fence. But her eyes remained open. And that hand? The one that had curled into a fist earlier? It tightened even more, every finger digging down into her palm. One small spark crackled in the middle of her hand. One spark that could grow. Amy punched her in the gut again. It was a crippling blast. Amy used most of her force. And the look in her eyes was one of total consuming anger. This was it. Amy was going to dig deep and gather every spell she could. As Theodore screamed in impending victory, Amy brought her fist back. And Mary brought her hand up. The crowd cheered in total joy. They thought this was it. It was only the beginning. Amy’s fist lanced forward, and Mary Lou caught it. One or two sparks crackled around her hand, then one or two more. Then three, then four – then 5000. Mary’s restriction didn’t break. But at least it partially opened. It was impossible – impossible to describe. It was a moment of pure release, of gushing force like Mary had turned into the heart of creation. She didn’t care about the crowd – about the way they quietened, about the way some people even screamed in fear.

She thrust Amy back. “No,” Theodore shrieked. Too late. Amy struck the floor, just as Mary stood above her. She stared at her hand. Only her left hand had broken through the restriction. And what a hand it was. It glowed, not like it was made of flesh – but pure magic. Amy shook her head. “No—” “No more fighting for you,” Mary growled. She rocked forward. Amy tried to defend. There was nothing to defend against. Mary smashed her electrified fist into Amy’s face, and something cracked. Fortunately, it wasn’t her neck – Mary controlled her force just at the last moment. Amy went flying. She sailed 20 meters into the air, then flopped back down. By the time she struck the floor of the ring with an echoing thump, she was already out. The crowd… the crowd was as silent as the grave. Until there was one scream, then another. Not anger – joy. Righteous, bloody joy. They’d come here for a fight, and they’d got one. “Get up. Get up and fight her,” Theodore screamed. But Amy was down. Mary took a step toward her, but weakness struck her in a wave, and she staggered to the side. She jerked her hand up. Her electrified fist convulsed, the fingers opening then contracting as if Mary didn’t have control anymore. She grabbed her upper arm, sinking her fingers in, falling to her knees as she hissed through clenched teeth. Amy didn’t get up. She couldn’t. And soon enough, something appeared right over Mary’s head. Straining her neck back, she saw it was a holographic representation of a champion’s cup.

… She’d won. Glancing to the side, the ring-fence failed. As soon as it did, Theodore shot toward her. He never reached her. No. Because another vampire stood in his way. Mary slowly tilted her head up to see Vincent rocket in front of her – his powerful back, his magic encased body. Vincent, in all his glory. “Get out of my way,” Theodore snarled. “You lost. You will accept the rules of the tournament,” Vincent growled. “Get out of my way.” Theodore locked a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. But Vincent bristled with magic – the kind that can’t be ignored, because it will slap you silly until you pay attention. Vincent twisted his taut neck to the side, his sinew like knives bulging from his throat. “This is not part of the tournament, Theodore. If you fight me, you can’t send me to Grendel. If you fight me,” his voice dropped low, “you will fight a Flagstaff.” Things caught up to Theodore. Mary saw the moment his eyes bulged wide then contracted. His hand slipped off Vincent’s shoulder as if it was a dead leaf. He took a step back, his breath rocking against his rumpled shirt, his gaze becoming dark with greed – and loss. Mary gasped. She lost hold of the restriction. Her hand was no longer electrified. It dropped limply as if she’d cut it off. She let out a strangled gasp. Vincent turned. He got down to his knees. He locked his hands on her shoulders. “Mary—” He looked into her eyes. And his look just led her away, away from the cheering crowd, from her blood-

splattered top, from her burnt skull and singed hair. “I’ll do it,” she managed, a real smile surging across her lips at the effect he had on her. “You’ll do what? You don’t have to do anything more. You won. You actually won. And your restriction—” “Yeah, it holds back my real magic. But that’s not important. I’ll do it, Vincent,” she whispered in a hoarse breath, that smile never leaving her lips. She watched as this stunning vampire walked up beside him. She was dressed like she was ready to fight. And hey, the look in her eyes? That was ready to fight, too. Maybe other people wouldn’t be able to see it, but Mary watched this darting force in the woman’s pupils – and it was all directed at her. Mary shoved closer, getting right up in Vincent’s face as her wide eyes searched his. He didn’t shift back. His eyes opened with just a tiny explosion of interest. “I’ll do it,” Mary said desperately. “I’ll marry you.” The words were out. Everyone heard, too. She practically screamed it. The woman behind Mary walked over to Vincent and locked one hand on his shoulder. That’s when Mary saw the ring glinting on her finger. She recognized it, all right. It was the Flagstaff family wedding ring. Vincent’s cheeks twitched. He was still there, still had his hands on her shoulders. So she could feel his tension, his regret, too. It was nowhere near as deep as hers. “What—” “He’s already married,” the woman said. She lifted her hand, her wedding ring

glinting. Vincent pushed to his feet. He slid his fingers down Mary’s arm and tried to pull her up. Mary would not be pulled. “I… you’re safe, Mary. It’s the only thing that matters,” he blurted. “I’ll keep you safe in the tournament in the future. I promise.” He could promise that. But it’s not what Mary wanted. She’d had her first taste of fighting for the side of good. She wasn’t gonna back down, never again. She shoved to her feet, but she did it with her own strength. She stared out at the tournament. She’d come far in the past several days. Mary was no longer the joke of Bridgetown. She was its only hope, instead. Even if she had to travel that path alone, she thought as she swiveled her gaze to Vincent’s regretful expression, she would. Frederick jumped up beside her, curling close to her legs. “You’ve won, Mary,” he said proudly. She leaned down. She plucked him up. It was a costly move. Her left hand still refused to work properly. She slid her weak fingers over his head affectionately. She looked up at the tournament scoreboard. “Yeah, and I’m gonna win next time, too.” Vincent looked at her. She held his gaze like a hand as she stared back. Then she walked away.

The end of Hell Bent Book One. There are four books in this series, and all of them are currently available. You can continue the story in Hell Bent Book Two today.

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