Mercenary Read online

Scath’s green eyes locked on mine, but there was no flame. Her eyes were covered in a milky film. For a second, I was afraid she hadn’t heard me, was afraid the spell wouldn’t work. When her eyes fluttered closed, my heart leapt into my throat and I bit back a cry of protest. Sleep, don’t die.

  “There’s a healing potion for you in the fridge. Drink it, and let’s go.”

  It grated on me that he was still giving orders, but there wasn’t time to argue. He lifted Scath into his arms, and some of the iron must have poked through, because his lips tightened into a thin white line. I stumbled to my feet and to the fridge. There was no time to reflect on the potions and what had made Flint buy them after lecturing me on how I overused them. I had to take advantage of the moment. I grabbed all the potions I could hold and shoved them into the waist pouch.

  “Bizbee—”

  “This one.” One of the potions popped out of the pouch and I took it, ripping the cork off as I bolted for the door and drinking it down in one gulp.

  Magic rose inside me, and I froze just outside my apartment door as magic much stronger than I’d anticipated surged up through my body. Iron made tiny metallic pings against the polished wood floor as the slivers were forced from my body. I wasn’t fey, I could heal even with iron in my body. Energy filled me to the brim and suddenly I felt like I could vault over the stair and land on the floor below with no ill effect. The potions in the fridge weren’t the basic healing potions I usually made. Flint had shelled out money for the good stuff.

  It wasn’t until I caught one of my neighbors staring at me with her eyes bulging and her mouth hanging open that I realized I was still covered in blood. I snapped my fingers and the blood vanished. The woman blinked, then frowned. I didn’t stay to watch her convince herself that she was seeing things, instead running after Flint.

  I almost cried in relief when I saw the Ford Focus sitting beside his midlife crisis mobile in the parking lot. His mechanic had been fast, and now we wouldn’t have to worry about stuffing Scath into his tiny backseat. I crawled into the car after he tucked her in, and I kept one hand on her side as he drove to the gym. Her breathing was choppy despite the sleep spell, the smell of her blood overwhelming in the car’s interior. The drive passed in a blur, and by the time we entered the gym, the euphoria of the healing spell had worn off and I was back to fighting not to vomit.

  “Activate the circles, they’ll keep her from dying while I get the iron out. Bizbee, have a healing potion ready to help her after the slivers are gone.”

  I tripped and fell into the circle, reaching out to slap a hand down on the outermost ring as soon as Flint carried Scath inside. My magic triggered the gym’s spells, and the circles of power hummed as Flint laid Scath on the floor and slowly unwrapped the comforter. He looked down at his arms and the few spots of his own blood that had been drawn by the iron that made it through the blanket.

  “The spell I need is difficult,” I said. I met his eyes. “Help me.”

  It wasn’t a request. Usually, he would have pointed that out, maybe made me say please. But again, he seemed to sense how close to the edge I was.

  “Pulling that iron out will tear her to shreds,” he warned. “The cure could kill her faster than the iron.”

  “The circle will keep her alive,” I said calmly. “If you act fast. Just help me like you did before.”

  I knelt beside Scath, and waited for Flint to settle his hands on my shoulders. Just like the last time he’d done this, I felt his energy pour over me like bathwater, warm and just this side of too hot. My magic responded to his energy, flowing upward with a quiet strength that was both familiar and foreign. I braced myself for what would happen next and concentrated on the spell.

  “Magneticus.”

  It was every bit as horrible as I’d expected. Gold energy poured out of my hands, coating them and turning them into gloves of pure, brilliant light surrounded by equally bright gold orbs. I gritted my teeth and lifted my hands, the electromagnetic buzz filling my ears and making my teeth hurt.

  The iron slivers trembled and began to worm their way out of Scath’s body. I smelled the distinct aroma of perforated intestines, heard the squish of flesh tearing. I closed my eyes, unable to bear watching it, until a cry from Scath forced me to open them again. She screamed, and the sound stabbed through my body, more painful than the shot from Ian’s borrowed gun.

  Blood poured over the circles, stopping at the first copper ring. Scath tried to scream again, but the sound came out a wet gasp. Blood in her lungs.

  “Bizbee,” I croaked.

  The grig popped out of the waist pouch, and I stared, wide-eyed as he bravely scurried over my lap, over the floor, and straight up to Scath’s open jaws. With a fiercely determined yank, he pulled the cork free and heaved the mouth of the bottle to the cat sith’s lips.

  I didn’t breathe until the last drop of potion slid down her throat, until I felt the surge of energy as the potion worked its magic. I’d hoped for a miracle, hoped that Scath would spring up, good as new.

  But that wasn’t how iron poisoning worked.

  “She’ll live.”

  I jumped at Flint’s voice and blinked, confused by the lack of bloodstains. Then I realized that the ritual circles had already taken care of it, eliminating the spilled blood the way they always did after the training session was over. Scath’s body was all smooth black fur, and her breathing was labored but strong. I stroked a hand down her side, blinking back tears.

  “The iron poisoning will make her weak for awhile,” Flint continued softly. “But she will live.”

  I nodded, unable to speak yet.

  “We’re okay,” came a tiny voice.

  I sobbed, then pressed my lips together to hold back another one. I looked down at my waist pouch to see Peasblossom looking up at me, her tiny pink face tired and worried. Her poor wings hung down her back. Useless. Broken.

  “We’re okay,” she said again.

  I tried to nod. I tried to tell her she was right, we were okay.

  But we weren’t. Peasblossom’s wings were destroyed. Scath had nearly died, could still die if the poison lingered too long. And me? I was angry. So. Very. Angry.

  “Shade, are you all right?”

  Any other time it would have given me pleasure to hear that uncertain tone in Flint’s voice. Now it was just irritating.

  I called Anton’s number, glancing out the windows of the Chiron’s doors. Night had fallen. Good.

  “Mother Renard. What a pleasure to hear from you again.” The vampire’s voice was as crystal clear as if he’d been up for hours, as opposed to recently reviving from the dead. “I received your messages. I understand you still believe Aaban is not—”

  “Can your sorceress teleport?” I interrupted.

  “Of course. May I ask—”

  “Have her teleport to the Chiron on the east side. You know the one?”

  “I do.”

  He didn’t try to ask me why again, but I heard the question in the silence that followed.

  “Have her come here immediately. I have proof Ian was the one who bound Roger.”

  There was a long pause, silent in the way that only happened when the person on the other end of the line didn’t need to breathe. “That is a very serious accusation.”

  I opened my mouth, but before I could respond, I heard Illyana’s voice behind me.

  “I hope you can prove it.”

  I whirled to find the sorceress standing behind me. Her pale eyes took in the entire scene before her in one sweep, Scath lying in the circle, Flint outside it with blood drying where the iron had pricked his arms, and me probably looking like a serial killer from a B-rated movie.

  I unzipped the pouch. “Contract.”

  The paper, rolled up and neatly labeled with a blue Post-it that said “Evidence,” popped out, held by a tiny fist. I took the contract and shoved it at Illyana.

  The sorceress accepted the paper. I didn’t have to see the magic to know she was
testing it, making certain that it was the real thing. Her jaw tightened.

  “He knows I have it,” I told her, still holding the phone so Anton could hear me too. “He thinks he has two hours head start. If you hurry, you’ll catch him.”

  Anton barked something in Dacian, too fast for me to catch. I didn’t need to know exactly what he said. I could guess.

  “I want the contract,” he bit out.

  Illyana nodded. She spun a finger in the air, then drew it downward in a sharp slash. In the blink of an eye she was gone.

  “Run, Ian,” I whispered, staring out the door, wishing I could be there when they caught him. “The monsters are coming for you now.”

  Chapter 27

  “I still don’t feel good, I need more honey.”

  I looked at Peasblossom where she had draped herself over the pillow beside Scath’s head. The big feline was taking up most of the bed in the apartment, and she would have to lie there for the next few days at least. Even with her wounds closed, the iron poisoning lingered, sapping her strength. The pixie periodically reached out to stroke her muzzle.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Peasblossom no, but then my eyes strayed to her wings again. Her limp wings that hung down her back like melted plastic. They looked better than they had yesterday, but she wouldn’t be flying any time soon. The damage had been extensive, and healing them now would be the equivalent of re-growing an arm. She’d be seeing a healer a few times a week for at least a month, and that was just to make sure they healed properly and didn’t have to be re-broken to correct a misaligned fusion.

  I swallowed hard at the thought. “Fine. I’ll get you another one. But this is it, I mean it.”

  Peasblossom gave me a bright smile and scooted closer to Scath. The feline let out a long breath in a sort of sigh as the pixie started telling her why she should eat more honey too.

  I walked into the kitchen just as the apartment door swung open. Flint strode in, oozing satisfaction and good cheer. As always, he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, neither of which looked expensive and both of which still managed to give the impression they’d been tailor-made for him.

  I scowled at him. “What do you want now?”

  He arched an eyebrow and sauntered in to plant one hip on the counter. “Are you sure that’s how you want to talk to me?”

  I jerked open the cupboard and grabbed the bottle of honey. “My familiar is lying in there with damaged wings. She may not fly again for a month. Scath is recovering from severe iron poisoning.” I slammed the cupboard and stared at him. “And thanks to you, there’s a goblin who’s taken an unsettling interest in following me around.”

  “Asher saved your life. Twice.”

  I stepped forward, crowding his personal space. “Look me in the eye and tell me Asher won’t kill me if he thinks that fight would be worth it.”

  Flint took the honey from me and slid his arms around my waist, returning my invasion of his space. I couldn’t stop myself from tensing at the unwanted closeness, but I didn’t jerk away.

  “Shade,” Flint said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Asher would only kill you if he believed the fight with you would be better than the bloodsport he could get joining your battles with all the enemies you make. Which, at this time, include a dream sorceress, a herd of kelpies, and several leannan sidhe.” Flint’s smile widened. “Asher would be a fool not to see how much more dangerous it is to be with you than against you.”

  “So I should stop leaving my enemies alive, that’s what you’re telling me?”

  Flint arched an eyebrow. “Interesting that’s where your mind went, but truth be told, yes. It would behoove you to stop adding to your list of enemies and start trimming it down. It would also help if you would concentrate more on building a better list of allies.”

  I stiffened. “I’m not accepting your patronage. Nothing has changed in that regard.”

  “We’ll discuss that again when you’re feeling more reasonable. But that’s not what I meant.” He lowered his voice, the change so slight I almost missed it. “Wasn’t it nice having a partner who helped you gain information without killing anyone? Someone who helped your investigation without adding to the list of people who want to kill you?”

  He was talking about Liam. Comparing him to Andy. My jaw ached, and I had to consciously unclench my teeth before I could respond. “Did you have something to do with Liam sticking with me for the duration of the case?” I tried to keep my voice even, but it was difficult with the emotions tightening my chest until it was hard to breathe. It was hard to imagine the alpha working for or with the leannan sidhe in any capacity, but I had wondered what had made him so keen to be part of my case.

  Flint grinned. “No, I had nothing to do with that. A happy coincidence that your wizard friend called him.” His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure why it surprises you. You told me you helped him with a case.”

  “Not because he wanted my help,” I pointed out. “In fact, he didn’t want my help at all.”

  “All the more reason he’d want to even things out by helping you with a case.”

  “I never thought he owed me,” I argued.

  “In my experience, people in positions of power prefer to err on the side of caution in such situations. Perhaps he wanted to help you now before your list of enemies grew—again—and he had to face the possibility that you might ask for his help later, with the insinuation that he owed you for your earlier help.”

  The suggestion twisted my stomach. Liam had nearly been killed too. If he’d almost died out of some misplaced belief that he owed me…

  I pulled away before Flint could read the expression on my face. I grabbed the honey from him before searching for a small dish. “How’s Roger?”

  “Recovering. Anton himself is overseeing his rehabilitation program. I believe he’s decided not to wipe his memory, but rather to introduce Roger formally to the Otherworld.”

  I stared at him, a small ceramic ramiken in one hand. “Really?”

  Flint nodded. “It’s a reasonable undertaking. I believe Roger and Barbara have both proven they have strong minds.” He tapped a finger on the counter. “A lesser man would have died instantly when that contract reacted. The fact that he was able to tell you anything at all is impressive.”

  “It’s going to be a lot harder to convince them to hire an Otherworld company,” I pointed out. “They don’t strike me as the type to be led. And they’re certainly not going to be brimming over with trust for Otherworlders after the introduction they had.”

  “True, but now that Underhill has gone under,” his grin widened at his pun, “Anton has to start over anyway. I dare say the vampire will find a way to benefit from Roger and Barbara’s influence regardless.”

  I put down the honey-filled ramiken. Flint was still smiling, and there was something unnerving about it. More so than usual.

  “What are you so happy about?” I demanded, exasperated.

  “You told Ian you would give him a two-hour head start, then you sicced the vampire on him anyway.” Flint chuckled. “It was so very mercenary of you. I’m proud of you, Shade, so very proud. Finally, you’ve managed to walk away from a case without a new enemy. I knew you had it in you.”

  A ball of ice settled in my stomach, heavy and searing in its cold. Mercenary. The word echoed in my mind. It was what I’d feared I would become after I signed the contract with Flint. It’s what I was afraid each new order might bring, the reason I clung so desperately to the idea that he couldn’t order me to kill. I’d always worried he’d find a way around that. I looked to the bedroom where Peasblossom waited for her honey on the bed.

  The bed.

  “He said he found it under the bed.”

  Flint walked to the fridge and opened the door. “Who said what was under the bed?”

  I stared at the back of his head. “Ian. He was holding that…gun.” The word came out hoarse, heavy as it was with the memory of what Ian had done with it. “H
e said he found it under my bed. He thought it was mine. But it wasn’t mine. Did you put it there?”

  Flint straightened with a can of Coke in each hand. “Yes.”

  Shock pressed me back against the counter, trying to process the idea of my sidhe master giving me a weapon that could have killed him. He raised an eyebrow and held out one of the sodas.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I know you wouldn’t use it on me—even if our contract didn’t expressly forbid you from offering me physical harm. And you were going up against a sidhe who—”

  “But you didn’t tell me about it.” I made no move to take the offered drink. “You just left it there.”

  “You have a pixie and a cat sith, one of them—”

  “You wanted me to kill him.”

  Flint put my soda beside me on the counter, then cracked open his own. “You did kill him, in a way. You must know the vampire takes a very dim view of betrayal, what else do you think happened to him?”

  My thoughts flowed faster and faster, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “That’s why you’re smiling. You think I’m your mercenary now. You think you pushed me past that hard limit. All those lectures about leaving my enemies alive. You think you’ve won. That you’ve changed me.”

  Flint winked at me over the can. “Your enemy is dead. That wouldn’t have happened before.”

  An eerie feeling of calm settled over me. The anger and fury were there, bubbling beneath the surface. But on the outside, I felt cool and calm. Perfectly controlled. The emotion drained from my face, leaving me pleasantly light-headed. I snagged the can of Coke off the counter, cracked it open, and took a long sip. With the carbonation still burning down my throat, I took a step toward Flint.

  “I think you’re suffering from a grave misconception about Ian’s fate.”

  The corner of Flint’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Am I?”

  I nodded and took another sip of Coke. “Yes. You think you’ve pushed me over a line. You think I killed Ian by proxy, when last month I would have honored my deal with him in spirit, instead of using the letter of our bargain to betray him. To sign his death warrant.”