Chapter 11

Nine o'clock rolled around,and I readied myself. Freshly washed hair brushed out smooth. Deodorant in case things got intense. Well-worn black jeans molded my ass, paired with my favorite shirt—which Mom liked to joke missed some material since it cropped above my naval. I wore my shitkickers, AKA combat boots with steel toes. The gun I tucked in the back of my waistband, hidden by my scarlet cape. To add to the look, I even put on some mascara and eyeliner. Resist that, wolf!

"How do I look?" I twirled for Hannah, the woman having grown on me in the hours we spent together. She'd been involved in some interesting cases, and we'd swapped stories, only to realize we were more alike than expected. Both overly confident, stubborn, and dedicated to our work with the bureau.

"You look good enough to eat," she declared, her humor as morbid as mine.

"Here's to hoping the wolf takes the bait."

"Depends on if this is a game for him. If it's about attention and the thrill of evading, then I expect we'll see more victims before he comes after you."

My mouth twisted. "Nice pep talk." Not that I disagreed. It sure did feel like this fucker toyed with us.

"Just keeping it real." Hannah rolled from the couch in a fluid motion as she rose to stretch. "Now, tell me, what's the plan?"

"Again?" I rolled my eyes. "Don't walk too slow because it will look like I'm deliberately baiting. Don't walk too fast either because my shadows need to keep up."

"If you move too quick, forcing them to break cover to keep up, they might get spotted."

"I know." I didn't roll my eyes, but jeezus, this wasn't my first operation.

"What else?"

"Don't act scared or too suspicious. Don't fart."

Her nose wrinkled. "I never said you couldn't pass gas."

"I added that one because a wolf has a sensitive sense of smell."

The comment curved Hannah's lips. "In that case, maybe an extra spritz of perfume. Got any eau de wet dog?"

"I ran out," my dry reply.

Hannah paced around me. "I am still debating whether the red cape is a little bit too much."

The remark had me whirling so it flared. "Oh, it is totally too much, but let's be honest, the wolf knows I'm on to him. Knows I'm looking. This is the red flag to a bull daring him to come after me, which is exactly what we want."

"True. At the same time, maybe it's too obvious."

"His victims have all worn red, and this is the only thing I own in this color."

"Your hair might be enough."

"Might be. But if you ask me, wearing this is an insult."

"How so?" Hannah asked.

"Because it's me saying come get me mother fucker. I'm not afraid, you piece of shit."

Laughter burst out of Hannah. "I swear we're related. Very well, keep the cape. Now, if you get worried at all—"

"Shoot the bastard and we'll sort out the paperwork later."

"I was going to say abort the mission by waving both arms in the air. That will let the Knights watching know you're getting cold feet."

"Ha. As if I'd ever be so cowardly." I snorted.

Hannah clasped my hand. "Girl after my own heart. Good luck."

"I think you mean good hunting."

With that, I left my apartment and skipped down the steps, the cape fluttering with each bounce. I flounced out of my building, my step brisk but not too brisk, my gaze straight. A woman out for a stroll without a care in the world. Cocky and confident. Let the wolf see I didn't fear him.

If the Knights shadowed, they did so well enough that I never spotted them. I made it to the store, bought some goodies—chocolate bars, licorice, and chips—and with my bag in hand, I walked home. Each step made me more and more self-conscious. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I felt watched.

And not by kind eyes.

Did the killer stalk me? He must have done so from afar because I made it back with no problem.

Almost.

The swans landed out of nowhere, the flutter of their feathery wings my only warning.

The six of them surrounded me, but I didn't worry. I knew this story. The Six Swans, cursed by a wicked stepmother. They needed their sister to sew them special shirts under stringent conditions to replace the ones that transformed them.

"Hello, boys. If you're looking for your sister to unravel the curse, then you should visit the Fairytale Bureau. They can help you locate her and fulfill the terms that will free you."

The biggest swan shook its feathers, and the magic shirt that made it a bird fell to the ground, leaving her there in the buff. Yes, her. The curse had taken liberties again.

The woman, her hair a long platinum, her skin alabaster smooth, smiled. "Why would I want to get rid of the greatest thing to happen to us? We already killed our brother so he couldn't ruin this blessing."

The statement put me on guard. "Are you admitting to murder?"

"Who me?" She blinked not so innocently.

"What do you want?"

"You."

"Why? Because you've just made it clear you're not looking for help." And no way did they flock to me by chance.

"We're here to give you a message." As she said it, the other swans all shed their feathers and stood there in the nude. They could have been sextuplets with their matching hair and features. They varied only in size.

"What message? Who sent you?" I snapped, losing patience and a bit discomfited by the boobs and cooches surrounding me. Where were the fucking Knights? Then again, did I really have to worry about these slender birdbrains? I could probably take them in a fight.

"My what big eyes you have," purred the leader.

"All the better to see you with," chanted the others.

"My what creamy skin you have." The leader licked her lips.

"All the better for marking when I rake you," replied the others in tandem.

"My what red hair you have."

"All the better to hide the blood when I kill you," a statement followed by cackling laughter.

Someone else might have been spooked. Me? I lunged and grabbed the leader's feather shirt from the ground, leading her to hiss, "Give it back. That's mine."

"If you want it, then you'll answer some questions. Who gave you that message?"

"A man." Announced with a smirk.

"What man?" I growled. "Name. Description."

Before she could speak, a single gunshot took her in the head. Her sightless eyes were less horrifying than the blood spatter on my face.

Her companions panicked. Their shirts went back on blurringly fast. They became swans once more, lifting in a flutter of wings and feathers and plummeting just as quickly as the sniper took them out. Five bloody bodies lay on the ground, a circle of corpses around me that left me gaping. Bloody hell.

When Levi jogged in my direction, I snapped, "What the fuck? You killed them before I could find out who sent them." Although I had a pretty good idea. Mr. Wolf had found a new way to taunt me.

"Wasn't me or my team. Someone called in about a suspicious truck that matched the suspect vehicle a street over. It turned out to be a false flag, most likely so the killer could do this." Levi glared at the bodies as if they offended him.

"Distracted?" I planted my hands on my hips. "Your job was to shadow me to foil the killer, but instead, he not only knows about you now, but he also took out the six bird-brained morons he'd sent to deliver me a message."

"What kind of message?" Levi asked.

"The kind that says the killer is playing games."

And I didn't know the rules.