The Mage in Black (29 page)

I tilted my head to the side. “Why?”

“If they hand you over to the queen, she’ll have you executed.”

“No,” I said slowly. “Why are you helping me?”

She sighed. “Because you’re my sister. And I know you wouldn’t have killed the faery unless you had to.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Maisie. I’m an assassin, remember? I don’t need a good reason to kill.”

She grabbed my arms and shook me. “Stop it. I know you were defending yourself. And I’m not going to allow Orpheus to hand you over to the queen as some sort of sacrificial lamb.”

“I burned him, Maisie.” My voice cracked.

Her face was grave. “And then you put him out of his misery. You did the right thing, Sabina. So stop punishing yourself. He was going to kill you.” She grabbed my hand. “Adam and I are going to keep working on Orpheus, but you need to disappear for a while. Just until the heat dies down.”

I closed my eyes. How had things gotten fucked up so fast?

“What was Adam doing back, anyway? I thought he wasn’t coming until the festival.”

“When I wrapped up the negotiations with Hawthorne”—her voice cracked on his name—“I convinced Orpheus to let Adam come back early. That was my surprise.”

I opened my eyes and looked into my sister’s watery blue gaze. She’d thought she was playing Cupid, organizing a reunion between me and Adam, and I’d fucked it all up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. You deserve better than this.” Another tear slid down her cheek.

I huffed a humorless laugh. “No, I don’t. But I appreciate your support, no matter how misguided it may be.”

“I figure the best thing to do is send you to Slade. Do you think he’ll put you up for a few days? I’ll send a message when it’s safe to return.”

Her suggestion made sense. Slade already wanted me to work for him. Surely he’d put me up for a few days if I agreed to do a couple of jobs.

“What about Giguhl?” I asked, trying to cover all the angles.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

I nodded. That was for the best. I didn’t want to tear him away from Valva because of my fuckup.

“Tell Adam—” What could I say? At this point, he was probably regretting ever bringing me to New York. “Just tell him I said good-bye, okay?”

Maisie swallowed hard. “There’s no need. When you get back, you two can say everything that needs to be said to each other.”

I forced a smile. “Okay.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wouldn’t be coming back.

P
ins and needles exploded on every part of my body. Freezing wind whipped at my face and hair, making my teeth chatter. A high-pitched whine pummeled my eardrums. So intense I felt close to madness. My brain struggled to make sense of these sensations. But my thoughts shifted like quicksilver.

The wind stopped suddenly. My ears popped, and every nerve ending on my body sizzled in the silence.

I blinked and looked around. Vein’s familiar urban decor surrounded me. Behind the bar, Earl paused in the process of drying a pint glass. His mouth hung open in shock.

“Hey, Earl.”

He set the glass down slowly. “Hi.”

“Slade around?”

He shook himself and nodded. “In his office.”

Leaving the surprised barkeep staring, I turned toward the stairs. As I moved toward them, I realized Maisie had sent me away in my own clothes. The goddess bless my sister. If I’d shown up in Slade’s bar wearing a blood-splattered chiton, it would only invite questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. I squared my shoulders, not allowing myself to think too hard about what I had to do.

When I opened the office door after a quick knock, Slade looked up from his desk. He’d been frowning at an open ledger when I came in, but when he saw me, his face cracked into a surprised smile.

“Sabina?” He rose and came forward. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“I just came to tell you I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

Slade stopped midstride and frowned. “What?” His keen gaze swept over me. I’m not sure what he saw, but something shifted in his expression, moving from confusion to concern.

I swallowed, hating him for making me say it out loud. “Yes, I’ll work for you.”

“You look like hell.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s sit down and talk about it.”

I shook my head and shrugged off his sympathy. “There’s nothing to talk about. Either you want me to work for you, or you don’t.”

Slade watched me silently for a few moments. I wondered if I looked as broken as I felt. Finally he said, “I take it things didn’t work out with the mages?”

I closed my eyes. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I’ll take that for a yes, then.” He paused, his eyes warm with sympathy. “I might be able to scrounge up some work for you.”

I opened my eyes again. This time, as I looked at Slade, the backs of my eyes stung. Whether from relief or regret, I didn’t know. Probably both. “It’s just for a couple of days. So I’m ready to start immediately.”

“Sabina, I don’t think—”

I waved a hand to quiet his protest. “If that doesn’t work for you, I’ll figure something else out.”

He blew out a breath. “Do you need money? Is that it?”

“I need to get out of town ASAP.”

He frowned. “That bad?”

I nodded.

He leaned back into the couch and blew out a breath. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but maybe you shouldn’t be making any hasty decisions right now.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It isn’t any of your business.”

“Sabina—”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m fine, dammit.” But the crack in my voice gave me away.

“Sure you are,” he said with a knowing look. “Look, I’m not going to push you to spill your guts. Just know if you need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, I was done talking about anything. Exhaustion clung to me like a parasitic vine. I stifled a yawn.

“You’re beat. Why don’t you crash here? There’s a room behind the office with a futon. It’s not much, but it’s private and safe.”

Leave it to Slade to understand that safety would outweigh comfort. “Thanks, Slade.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Hey, what are friends for?” He patted my knee. “C’mon, the sun’s almost up. I’ll help you get settled and then head home.”

I followed him across the office to a bookcase on the far wall. He felt around for a hidden switch. The shelves slid aside smoothly, barely making a sound. Behind them, a steel door was set into the wall. “Nice,” I said.

He shrugged and used a key to open the dead bolt. “I set it up as a panic room years ago. I sleep here when I get word some new blood decides they want to take over my turf.”

“That happen often?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

He motioned for me to go first into the dark room. He flipped a switch and light bathed the small room. He was right. It wasn’t much to write home about. A futon took up most of one wall. A small dorm fridge hummed in the corner. An out-of-date TV was hooked up to an old-school VCR with a few tapes piled next to it on the floor. Another door across the room probably led to a bathroom.

“What changed?” I asked. There was no use commenting on the room, so I focused on what he’d said.

“About twenty years ago, things were different. Turf wars were pretty common. The Hekate Council was worried the tensions would expose us all to humans. So they came to me and struck a deal. I’d get exclusive rights to sell their cash crops with a hefty commission. In return, I agreed to clean things up and keep the vamps and weres in line.” He shrugged. “Every now and then some new blood comes to town and tries to challenge my control, but they usually don’t get too far. I’ve made sure it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep me in charge.”

I looked at Slade with new eyes. Sure, he was no altruist, but his accomplishments were impressive. He’d also managed to escape the Dominae’s hold and build a new life for himself. If staying in New York didn’t mean I’d risk running into mages everywhere I turned, I’d almost consider staying and working for him on a more indefinite basis.

“Anyway, I better head out before the sun rises. My apartment’s a few blocks away.” He grabbed a cell phone from his jacket. “This has my number programmed. Just hit ‘one.’ If you need anything, let me know.”

I took the phone and stuck it in my pocket. “Thanks.”

He looked around as if trying to think if there was anything else I needed to know. “Oh, there’s bagged blood in the fridge. I have Earl restock it regularly, so it’s fresh. Help yourself.”

I grimaced. Bagged blood. Ugh.

“Okay, I’m off. Try to get some sleep, okay?” He put his hand on the side of my face, and his thumb stroked my cheek. I considered being offended by the presumptuous contact, but truth was, it was comforting. After weeks among mages and their fucked-up customs and rules, being around Slade felt comfortable. Easy. Like putting on a favorite pair of broken-in jeans.

Only Slade stepped closer. The look in his eyes told me his thoughts had taken a less platonic direction. In my exhaustion, my reflexes were muted. He leaned in, and I was still processing the fact he was about to kiss me. But just when it clicked I needed to stop him, he changed path and kissed my cheek. “Good night, Sabina.”

I watched him walk out and shut the door. I heard the bookcases slide back into place. And a few minutes later, I listened to the sounds of him and Earl closing down the bar. Only when I was sure I had the building to myself did I collapse on the futon. I was out a few seconds later.

That day, I dreamed about being burned at the stake. As I screamed in agony, I looked out over the crowd. Maisie was there, sobbing as she clung to Orpheus. Adam and Slade were punching each other while Giguhl cheered them on. And Stryx sat on Lavinia’s arm as she danced around my funeral pyre.

T
o Slade’s credit, he’d patiently ignored me for an hour before he broke.

“All right, dammit.” He slammed his pen down on his desk. “Stop pacing before you wear a rut in my carpet.”

After being plagued by strange dreams all night only to wake up to a bag of cold blood, I’d woken in a shitty mood. I’d spent an hour in the bar spoiling for a fight before Slade demanded I go to his office.

I stopped and smiled. “You got something for me, after all?”

When I’d asked earlier, he’d said it was too soon. Probably he was right, but I didn’t care. I needed to do something before I went crazy.

“Yes, but don’t get too excited. It’s a small job. There’s a vamp who owes me some back blood taxes. I need you to go convince him bringing his account up to date is in his best interest.”

I’d spent a few years being an enforcer for the Dominae out in L.A. The job involved delivering a bunch of broken noses and shaking down the scum of the earth for overdue tithes. Before I got promoted to full-fledged assassin, I knew every vampire club owner, porn peddler, and pimp in the City of Angels. So I knew a little something about convincing reluctant debtors to pay up.

“How persuasive do you want me to be?”

“Very. This guy’s a real asshole. By the time I figured out he was cooking his books, he’d been underpaying for years. And now he’s two weeks late on his payment.”

My hand curled into a fist, itching to be put to use. “I’ll take care of it.”

In addition to his role as professional pimp, Tiny Malone also owned a strip club called The Fang Bang. Located in Alphabet City, the club catered to horny vamps. Upstairs, Tiny rented out rooms to the nymphs he kept on staff for clients who preferred their blow jobs fang-free.

The club consisted of one large cave-like room drenched in red light. On a stage toward the back, a female vampire gyrated her hips in time with “Blood Sugar Sex Magik.” Her tits were real—implants never took in vamps—and covered in silver glitter that matched her G-string. Another chick lay on the bar, dripping blood from a bottle onto her rack. A few horny male vamps watched mesmerized as she licked the blood from her nipples.

I headed straight for the bar on the opposite end from the blood show. A male vamp eyed me from a nearby stool. His greasy red hair hung limply to his shoulders, and his right hand was busy in his lap. I avoided his leer as I tried to get the bartender’s attention. The three-hundred-pound barkeep stood next to the female on the bar, making sure none of the onlookers helped themselves to a free grope.

When he finally noticed us, he held up a finger. I took the opportunity to get the lay of the club. Several males were clumped in front of the stage watching the female in the silver G-string rub her crotch against the pole. Around the perimeter of the room, other girls gave lap dances to males with shadowed faces. Other than the front door, I saw only one other exit, which seemed to lead to a hallway—probably the “blood rooms.” They were like champagne rooms you’d find in mortal strip clubs, only instead of bubbly, customers got blood with their private shows. Typical setup for this type of club.