Chapter 2

The cool night air carried the tang of salt from the nearby docks. I skirted the pools of light cast by the gas lamps and stayed mostly in the shadows, avoiding the notice of the occasional night watchman. A light mist hung in the air, giving the area an ethereal, almost dreamlike quality. The streets were mostly deserted at this late hour, save for a few inebriated sailors returning from the taverns.

This district was a mix of old warehouses and bustling shops, now dark and closed for the night. The tall masts of ships in the harbor towered overhead as they bobbed sedately on the tide. The click of my boots on the cobblestones was a staccato contrast to the hypnotic sound of water lapping against the pier.

My target, the offices of Anchor Crest Trading Company, was a few blocks from the wharves. In terms of difficulty, this job rated about a two on a scale from one to ten. A rival company had contacted the Guild of Thieves and Spies to obtain information on an exclusive contract between Anchor and an overseas supplier. And the guild had sent me. I'd get in; I'd get out. With a little luck, I'd make it to The Stony Mug before last call.

I supposed it was too much to hope that the woman who had quite literally fallen into my arms would turn up at the Mug for a pint. She was tiny as a sprite, but given how rare sprites were, she was probably human. She was pretty enough with dark wine-red hair and wide green eyes, that under normal circumstances, I'd have stayed to flirt and maybe tried for more. But I'd needed to get this job finished and had rushed off. A pity.

Turning into a small, unlit alley, I wiggled a loose brick out of a wall to reveal one of the many hidey-holes I had all over the city. I shrugged off my leather vest, followed by the rest of my clothing, until I was naked as a pink, newborn pup. Folding everything neatly inside, I placed my many knives on top, including a prized, enchanted blade that a friend had given me.

The only downside to being a shifter was that clothing didn't come with you. I was luckier than the bigger shifters because I didn't tear through seams and fabric when I changed, but leaving a pile of clothes and knives on the sidewalk was a sure way to have everything stolen. I didn't much care if my pants vanished, although it did make walking through the city streets awkward, but I'd kill anyone who touched that knife.

A tingling sensation coursed through my body, as I felt my bones subtly rearranging themselves. My limbs shortened and my body grew more compact, while I simultaneously sprouted fur, a tail, and whiskers. I could now hear the rhythmic creaking of the ships and the faint chatter of sailors more clearly. The scents of saltwater, fish, and various spices filled the air, each aroma standing out distinctly. Now I was a rat—a creature of the night, elusive and cunning.

With a twitch of my whiskers, I hugged the buildings lining the street as I scurried to Anchor Crest. They shared a night watchman with several neighboring companies, but he was easy to evade. I probably could have run right in front of him without notice. Oblivious fool. Smirking to myself, I located a small gap in the foundation and slid into their offices.

Once inside, I paused to take stock of my surroundings. The décor was opulent, with intricately carved wooden furniture and plush rugs that oozed wealth and success. Ornate paintings and delicate tapestries depicting exotic lands dotted the walls, reflecting the company's thriving business in foreign markets.

Tuning out the myriad scents, I focused on the faint smell of ink and parchment and followed it to the central office on the second floor. Tall, arched windows allowed the silver moonlight to bathe the spacious room. A large mahogany desk dominated the space, piled with neatly arranged documents and ledgers, and a magnificent painting of the ocean hung on one wall. I made a mental note to line up a buyer and return for it.

Assuming that crucial information about the trade agreement would be housed in a secure location, I ignored the ledgers on the desk and began systematically searching for a safe. I was investigating the floor under the desk when I saw a pair of disembodied amber orbs hovering in the shadows. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze in my tracks.

Slowly, the orbs resolved into eyes, and I could discern the outline of a cat crouched under the desk. For several long moments, we merely stared at each other, locked in silent confrontation. Contrary to popular belief, most cats preferred to find easier prey than rats. We were vicious when cornered. But I really didn't want to find out if this particular cat was smart enough to know it.

I backed up several steps and when the cat stalked forward, I shifted. Still half under the desk, the top of my head cracked into its underside as I suddenly grew, and I let out a string of curses. Startled, the cat yowled and shot past me, clawing over my arm in its haste to flee. I rubbed my head ruefully. What kind of maniac kept a fucking cat in an office, anyway?

Remaining human, I returned to my search and soon discovered a small door concealed behind a bookshelf. It swung open to reveal a sturdy iron safe with a combination dial. Although my hearing in rat form was keener, even as a man it equaled most fae's and surpassed a human's. Placing my ear on the door, I carefully turned the dial until I could hear the click of the tumblers falling into place.

The safe swung open, and I pulled out several pouches of coins and jewels in addition to a stack of parchment. Spitefully, I decided to take the pouches when I returned for the painting as compensation for dealing with the cat.

Flipping through the documents, I found the details of the exclusive contract the client wanted and scanned them quickly. Since childhood, I'd been able to recall any text after just one reading. It was a skill that had served me well over the years, although I took pains to keep it secret. People thought me a crude, poorly educated gutter rat, and that suited me just fine. It led them to underestimate me. I returned everything to the safe and gave the room a once-over to make sure it was as I had found it.

I decided to stay in human form until I was near the crack that led back outside and padded across the thick carpet on bare feet. Just as I reached the hallway, I heard a voice downstairs.

"What are you doing down here, Muffin? You're supposed to be in the office at night."

My nemesis meowed.

"C'mon, I'll take you back up and fill your bowl."

My dislike of this infernal cat was growing by the minute.

I darted to the end of the hallway, opened a door, and slipped inside. I found myself in a small room filled with a variety of supplies, including brooms and mops. Leaving the door ajar, I peered out at a middle-aged man in overalls and a cap carrying the cat under his arm.

As he neared the office, he said, "There ya go, Muffin. Someone left the door open."

He disappeared into the office, and I waited impatiently for him to dump the cat and leave.

"Might as well start cleaning up here and work me way down tonight." This man was having an entire conversation with a cat, and I wondered if it was answering him. This whole place was staffed with lunatics.

But then he came back out of the office, and my stomach dropped as I realized he was headed for the room where I hid. I shifted to rat form and was about to scurry past him when I spied Muffin in the office doorway. My pulse skyrocketed. The night janitor hadn't closed him in. I dithered for a few seconds, debating between hiding and fleeing. But there was no guarantee the cat wouldn't follow the man into the storage room, and I didn't want to be trapped.

If I shifted back to a man, the cat would be no threat, but the janitor would see me. He might be odd, but even he couldn't miss a naked man running past him in the hallway. Stealth was paramount on this job; if Anchor Crest suspected an intruder, they might renegotiate the contract terms, negating the value of my information.

I had a reputation to uphold, and pride wouldn't let me ruin the mission. Muffin be damned.

Taking a deep breath, I sprinted between the janitor's legs and raced down the corridor. My paws were silent on the wooden floor, but the cat was waiting, its amber eyes fixed on me with predatory intent. Heart in my throat, I ran for the stairs as Muffin gave chase.

For an overfed, indoor cat, Muffin was surprisingly fast. The sound of his breath as he drew nearer sent shivers along my spine. My overactive imagination conjured gruesome images of his claws sinking into my back. Shifters reverted to human form when they died. If the cat ate me, would I explode out of its belly in a rain of guts and gore?

Lungs heaving and muscles straining, I pushed harder.

Just when I thought my heart would explode from my chest, I reached the crack and shot in. Furry white toes tipped with needle claws followed me into the gap, but the rest of him didn't fit. With a screech, Muffin vented his frustrations on the other side of the wall.

I kept running until I got back to my cache and shifted. Fumbling the brick out of the hole, I yanked my pants out and put them on. Then I slid to the ground and sat with my back to the wall, waiting for my heart rate to slow. As the cool night air brushed across my sweaty skin, I dropped my head back against the bricks and pushed my damp hair off my forehead.

What a clusterfuck. Nearly done in by a cat. It was a good thing I always worked alone because I wasn't sure I could live this one down. Glancing at the sky to judge the time, I pushed to my feet and finished dressing. It was nearing dawn and as much as I wanted to drink and laugh this off, my usual haunt would be closed. In the past, I might have brought a bottle and pounded on a friend's door, but they were all married now and undoubtedly tucked up in bed with their wives. Interrupting them would probably get me greeted with a fist.

I had no interest in a long-term relationship but could see the appeal of having someone soft and warm waiting for me. My thoughts drifted back to that little redhead from earlier—I bet she would be fun. Marriage had certainly worked out well for my friends. Regrettably, those sorts of arrangements required mutual trust and made you vulnerable. Trust was not my strong suit and anyone I'd ever relied on in the past had left. Maybe I should just get a pet. But not a cat. I shuddered.

Resigned to spending what remained of the night alone, I shoved my hands in my pockets and sloped off home.