Chapter 8

Eve

The next morning, my door was locked. After my recon mission, I'd made it back to my room without running into anyone and had fallen into a fitful sleep until an ungodly early hour. But now the damned door was locked.

The cook must have ratted me out. Apparently, exploring the tower wasn't one of my prisoner's privileges.

I pounded on the door. "Let me the hell out of here!"

Maybe I shouldn't have been calling attention to myself if I was trying to lie low, but it seemed that my disguise was working, and I was pissed.

No one answered the door, so I went to the window and pushed it open.

The early morning sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon—it wasn't yet six a.m. But the day was bright and clear, and I could see a half-dozen people milling around in the courtyard below. As annoyed as I was, I kept my mouth shut instead of shouting for someone to come let me out. It was one thing to catch the attention of a single passerby in the hall—I could dose them with a potion to make them forget—but there wasn't much I could do against so many people.

I could fit out the window, though.

Had Lachlan not remembered I was fae? Was he testing me?

I shivered.

Maybe he didn't fully believe my disguise.

That was nothing a little wing action couldn't fix. Anyway, I didn't want to cower in my room like I was guilty.

I wasn't.

Not of that crime, at least.

I called upon my wings and climbed onto the windowsill, then launched myself into the air. I couldn't see the sparkle of my wings since they were behind me, but they were bright. I'd catch enough eyes to prove I was fae.

As I flew down into the courtyard, I could hear people talking. I landed gracefully and called my wings back into my body.

Thank you, Liora.

I spun around, turning to face the main tower.

An angry guard came toward me, his face set in stern lines. He had the stride of a rhinoceros and the shoulders to match. I pulled a tiny vial of stunning powder from the leather bracelet at my wrist and subtly uncorked it.

He stopped right in front of me. "You're not permitted to try to escape."

I raised a brow. "Escape? Is that what you think I was doing?"

He gripped my arm.

"Not today, Satan." I stomped on his foot, then blew a blast of powder into his face.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed liked a downed tree.

I stepped over him, muttering, "If I were trying to escape, you never would have caught me."

The eyes of the onlookers burned into me as I strode back toward the tower. They were suspicious, and I could feel it like a brand.

Maybe I needed to stop knocking the guards out. This was twice, now, that I'd assaulted them, and that surely wasn't earning me any favors. I just needed to get ahold of my temper.

The main room of the tower was empty except for Lachlan, who strode toward me, his expression thunderous. "You aren't supposed to be out of your room."

"I don't appreciate the lock." I pointed to the golden collar around my neck. "Especially when I'm forced to wear this."

"I don't appreciate you sneaking around and quizzing my pack about me."

"That's hardly what I was doing." I crossed my arms. "Have you arranged a meeting with Damian?"

"I have, in fact. We will depart now."

"Now? It's midnight in Magic Side."

"Damian is a night owl. And conveniently, he'll be at a place I know."

"All right." Inconveniently, my stomach chose that moment to growl. I'd just eaten.

His brow lowered. "Are you hungry?"

I shrugged. "It's breakfast time, isn't it?"

"Let's get you fed." He sounded annoyed about it.

"I can wait. Let's talk to Damian." He was our one lead. I didn't want to keep him waiting.

"He'll be fine. Come on." He turned and strode toward the kitchens.

I followed, staring up at him. He looked determined to get me breakfast. It was almost…protective.

Weird.

It didn't take long for the cook to put together a bacon sandwich, and we were on our way. Fortunately, I'd already packed a bag of potions in the ether—a nifty little trick that allowed me to carry magic anywhere with me—and I'd dressed for the occasion. "How are we getting there?" I asked, following Lachlan back to the main room.

"Transport charm."

"You have one?"

"Of course I do."

Right. Transport charms might be rare, but he was the Alpha of a wealthy pack.

I swallowed the last bit of sandwich. "Lead the way, then."

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the charm. "Ready?"

I nodded.

He hesitated briefly, then stuck his hand out, his face in hard lines. Generally, when one traveled by transport charm, it was ideal to link hands in order to ensure that the ether took both people to the same destination. But Lachlan did not look like he wanted to touch me.

And oh, did it burn.

Dog.

The old insult flared to life in my mind, and I swallowed hard. It was the one moment of weakness I allowed myself before reaching out and gripping his hand.

The frisson of electric tension that traveled up my arm was so unexpected that I almost dropped his hand. It was like touching a live wire—but good. Somehow, the fact that I hated him made it all the more intense.

I drew an unsteady breath and didn't make eye contact as he threw the transport charm to the ground. A cloud of silver smoke burst upward, and I followed him into it.

The ether picked us up and spun us through space, making my stomach lurch as we traveled a farther distance than I was used to. A few moments later, the ether spat us out in the middle of a mini Las Vegas. Cold Chicago wind whipped down the street, and I pushed my hair out of my eyes to get a better look.

It was seedier than the real Las Vegas, that was for sure, with an air of lawlessness about the place. The buildings, apparently converted industrial spaces, were decorated with tacky neon signs that advertised everything from gambling dens and strip clubs to pawn shops and fried chicken.

"Which part of Magic Side is this?" I asked. Magic Side was an all-supernatural island hidden just offshore of the Chicago lakefront. Humans had no idea it was there, but it was one of the largest all-magical cities in America.

"The Midway Dens. A lot of gambling, not a lot of rules."

"That's for sure." I watched a massive man do a striptease on top of a roof. He was dressed as an elephant, and the trunk was his… My brows rose to my hairline. "Quick, hand me some pearls so I can clutch them." Lachlan gave me a confused look, and I just shook my head. "Don't worry about it. Apparently, you don't get out much. Which way to Damian Malek?"

"This way." He led me down the crowded street.

I stuck close. People parted like the Red Sea as we passed, no doubt because Lachlan scared the shit out of them. The neon glow of the signs only emphasized his hard ruthlessness. Music blared from the bars we passed, and the scent of booze filled the air.

The street seemed unusually clear for such a popular time of night, and the reason became obvious when two cars buzzed down the street, their engines roaring to the cheer of the crowds.

Drag racing.

"We're here." Lachlan stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and nodded at the hulking bouncer, who pulled it open to admit us.

Lachlan stuck close to me as we entered, though he made a point not to touch me. It was almost as if he thought he were allergic to me but wanted to protect me all the same.

As soon as we made it inside the crush of people, I realized why Lachlan knew this place.

There was a massive fight ring in the middle of the cavernous room. Bare lightbulbs hung from the ceiling, illuminating the people who crowded around the ring. It was a bare bones place, though the clientele was anything but. People were dressed to the nines, flashing designer labels everywhere, though some wore more understated attire that screamed "real money."

"You're really into this fighting thing, aren't you?" I asked.

"Everyone needs a hobby."

It was his only hobby, it seemed. "And Damian?"

"He needs a hobby, too."

Was he also beating his own demons to death?

I didn't ask. There was no point in getting to know either man. It was a terrible idea, in fact.

Once again, the crowd parted as we made our way deeper into the room. There weren't many shifters here that I could see, but it didn't matter. Supernaturals could sense the strength of each other's power, and Lachlan had enough to make anyone want to get out of the way. Combined with his stature and the look in his eyes, no one wanted to land on his bad side.

He led me straight to the bar and found a free space in the middle. I sidled up to a man leaning over his whisky glass. He turned to me, his eyes brightening as he leered. "Hey, Tinker Bell."

I heard a faint growl from behind me but didn't need to look back to know it was Lachlan.

The man turned green and stumbled off his stool, backing away without taking his drink.

I turned to Lachlan. "Really, Cujo?"

He frowned at me, and I almost thought I saw surprise in his eyes.

Not at the joke, that was for sure. Lachlan wasn't big into laughing.

No, he seemed confused that he'd growled.

***

Lachlan

What the hell was I doing? Trying to mark my territory?

It was common with mates, but she wasn't my mate. That woman was long gone. Dead, for all I knew. So what was it about this fae?

I looked down at her, taking in the surprise in her eyes. I felt it, too, and despised it.

There had been plenty I hadn't liked about my life—the loss of my brother, the fact that I'd had to put down my crazed father, the looming threat of the Dark Moon curse. But one thing that had always been rock steady for me was the fact that I knew who I was and what I needed to do: lead my pack. It had informed all my decisions and given me a reliable bedrock when making decisions.

This small fae was throwing me for a loop.

I turned back to the barman, who'd stopped in front of us. He had a sharp look to his eyes, and it was clear that he was no ordinary bartender. No, he was part of Damian's network—a series of spies and minions who kept tabs on Magic Side for him.

"We're here to see Damian Malek," I said.

He nodded. "A moment."

I directed my voice to Eve but didn't look directly at her. "A drink?"

"Yes. But not a strong one." She glanced around, wary.

It was smart not to want to lose focus in a place like this. It was built for fun and games, but it wore a slick veneer of danger that should be respected.

Another bartender stopped by, and I ordered two beers, passing her one. I ignored mine, preferring the burn of my own whisky.

The original bartender returned a moment later. "He will see you now."

We followed him through the bar to a raised booth in the corner. Damian was the sort of man to sit with his back to two walls, ever alert. There was much in his past I didn't know—almost everything, in fact—but I also didn't care to ask. We shared a fondness for the ring, and that was enough.

Damian rose as we stepped up to the table. Tall and broad shouldered, with a ruthlessness to his eyes, he was the kind of man I recognized. Had he been a shifter, he would have been an Alpha. As it was, he sat at the top of the criminal pecking order in Magic Side, a fallen angel with more stains on his soul and more connections than anyone else I knew.

"Lachlan. And friend. Please sit." Damian's eyes traveled over Eve, and though there was nothing lascivious in their depths, I still felt myself taking a step closer to her.

I couldn't control this damned protectiveness, no matter what I did. It made no sense.

Damian's brows quirked, interest lighting in his eyes. I ignored him and sat at the table. Eve took the chair next to me. I didn't introduce her, not wanting him to know her name.

I was losing my bloody mind.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Damian asked.

"We are here to ask a favor." I didn't like asking it. Didn't like owing anyone. But my packmate—no matter how much of a weasel he'd been—deserved to have his murderer brought to justice, and Damian could help make that happen.

"So you know the way of things in Magic Side." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Magic Side, especially this lawless part, was run on favors. Damian owned a massive tower in the respectable part of town and did most of his business from there, but he had plenty of dealings in the darker part of the city, and that's what we needed now.

"We need to find someone," I said.

"I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. Who is it?"

"We need an audience with a woman named the Apothecary. Alia."

Damian's brows rose once more. "I'm afraid I can't get you an audience with her—she determines that for herself. But I can tell you how to find her."

"And in return?" I asked.

"A fight."

I felt Eve stiffen next to me, her confusion palpable.

I wasn't surprised. Damian liked a good bout in the ring. And like me, he had a hard time finding a proper opponent. We'd gone up against each other several times, and our record was even.

"Do I need to win?" I could, given the proper incentive. Though our record was fifty-fifty, this was proper motivation to ensure a win.

"No." Damian smiled. "I'm not bothered by who wins. We'll both end up beat to a pulp, either way."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Eve demanded.

I nodded toward the ring behind me. A roar from the crowd happened to go up at the same time. "A bit of that. For fun."

She looked back and forth between us, horrified. "How is that fun for you?"

I rubbed at the back of my neck and shrugged. "Just is."