Chapter 2

Two

“Greta is my baby sister. She’s sweet, and innocent. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She would never leave my father’s… celebration early.” Her jaw skates to the side, her teeth raking her perfectly painted lower lip as she tugs the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Would you like some coffee? I might have tea…” I leap out of my chair, making my way to the small hutch where I keep a burner and a four-cup kettle. The rain lashing against the corner windows adds an irregular rhythm that helps drown out the siren call of her. Usually, I enjoy the battering of a storm while I work at my desk, but tonight there a slippery discordance in the pattern of the night I can’t quite put my finger on. Something is off. But is it my potential new client?

“Would it be unladylike to ask for something stronger?” She realizes she’s gnawing at her lip and gives me half a self-deprecating smile.

“Not at all Miss...” Grateful that I don’t have to wash the fine layer of dust off my kettle, I set it down and reach for a bottle, waiting expectantly for her answer as the liquid sloshes into a pair of tumblers. I pat my pocket, soothed by the thump of my silver cigarette case against my thigh. Usually, I’d smoke a butt with my last drink of the evening. It’s not like smoking will kill me, but she might have an aversion.

She stiffens. “Galena Gharlick. I’m not like my father. Neither is Greta.” The words rush out of her. “I came to you because you’re the best. I’ll be paying you from my own accounts, not my fathers.”

“It wouldn’t bother me in the least to take his money. But I’d probably insist on cash.” I hand her a heavy pour of malt scotch. I should have offered to make her a martini, but it’s late, and I’m still not sure I won’t throw her out on her bedazzled bottom.

She doesn’t blink at the insult, reading my words correctly. I know who her father is. Her last name is well-known in every supe circle. “Greta is secretly engaged to Bardolph Von Shülderbitten. They’ve been in love since they were children, when my father did business with Bardie’s and tolerated his children playing with wolves because the profits were worth the stain to his reputation.”

A harsh bark of laughter erupts from my throat as I make my way back to my throne. Galena Gharlick, the daughter of Geldhardt Gharlick, cannot hide from me once I’m reseated behind my massive desk. The one I bought for intimidation, not to store pens and files. I close my eyes, rolling the booze around in my mouth before swallowing. Geldhardt Gharlick. The second son of Gershon, the most celebrated slayer in the last century. Perhaps the only Gharlick son to deny his legacy and defy the not-so-secret society of the king’s slayers and their musty, dank rituals. Geldhardt Gharlick put down his family’s antiquated weapons and developed his uncanny knack for business. The man makes money like a Midas touched machine.

Publicly he shuns anything and everything to do with monster hunting. Privately, he funds both his family and the Guild. I suspect he uses a great deal of money to manipulate supe counsels, in addition to using his capital to pull a plug factory’s worth of strings in the human government. “I doubt, Ms. Gharlick, that there is anything secret about your sister’s engagement.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, her spine straightening. She jerks enough to disturb the liquor in her glass. The scotch blooms, the scent blending with hers, increasing her appeal.

“Drink,” I encourage. I’ll find her much less appetizing if she imbibes enough to get snookered. Although humans like to think they’ve survived the supernatural with brains and cunning, the sin of gluttony has been their saving grace. Gluttony and lust. Along with the sexually transmitted diseases that accompany both. Certain sins taste disgusting, especially if they stain both the blood and the soul.

Galena Gharlick has no idea how intimately acquainted my family is with hers. Or who I really am. “Tell me what happened tonight. Then we can dig into the family politics.”

She tosses back the rest of the scotch and coughs delicately into her gloved hand. Exhaling through pursed lips, she grips the arm of her chair with her other hand, her fingertips flexing into a hard grip. “Mr. Fürst, the longer we sit here and squawk, the harder it will be to locate my sister.”

“How do you know her disappearance isn’t some elaborate plan she cooked up with Mr. Von Shülderbitten?” I lean back and kick my feet up onto the desk, careful to slide my ledger to the side. Reaching to the left, I snag an empty ashtray out the drawer. As Galena parts her rose red lips, the hidden hatch over my office door drops open, the well-greased hinges silent as church mice. The potent smell of hot wolf enters the room in a gust as my partner drops in from his living quarters on the top floor of the building.

“Because as much as my cousin loves his girl, he wouldn’t risk his pack’s livelihood or standing by snatching her from a high society family event.” Phang’s biceps flex, his shape slipping through the dark square as if he’d entered from a hole in the fabric of another universe. In a way, he has.

Galena’s hair, now out of the elements and drying into slick, glossy waves, ripples off her shoulders as she jumps out of her chair, her head snapping around to face our intruder. “Who are you?” she squeaks. Barely retracted, my fangs drop again as she startles, her heart jolting like a frightened rabbit’s.

“Ms. Gharlick, this is my partner?—”

“Phang Von Shülderbitten, at your service.” Bowing low while taking her hand, he presses a kiss upon her glove. His lips linger, his gaze flitting to mine in a teasing challenge I’ll take great pleasure in punishing him for later. Her hand darts up, tucking a dark tress behind her ear. I roll my eyes and retrieve my cigarette case from my pocket.

“Have you heard from Bardie? Is Greta with him? Is she alright?” Questions tumble from her mouth, the cultured accent of her upbringing rolling off her plump lower lip like drops of candied blood. Does Galena know Phang, or was his last name enough to breed familiarity?

“Alas, Ms. Gharlick, I know not where your sister is. Please, accept my assistance in locating her.” Galena’s black lashes widen, and she can’t resist tossing a small smirk my way.

I light my cigarette and inhale deeply, needing something to chase the sticky residue of their posturing out of my lungs. I could choose not to breath, but I’m never able to shut my mouth long enough to get used to stilling my ribcage. “Are you both finished? Because I can’t…fuck this.” I stub out the cigarette and stand. I twist my body as I glide past my best friend and partner, and my new client, grabbing my trench coat off the rack by the door.

“Where are you going? Galena asks, as Phang drops her hand and straightens.

I lift my Borsalino fedora from the rack. “To crash a party,” I answer, dropping the hat on my head. I sweep out of my office, at a comfortable speed, not caring if my flea-bitten furnace of a partner or our sequined siren with the missing sister follow me.

I will find Greta Gharlick. Galena can take her money and shove it up the hole between her honey cakes. I’ll take the job just to get her out of my office. Neither my fangs nor my cock will know a moments peace until she’s gone.