Magic Edge (3 page)

He must have been worried that once the perpetrators of this treasure hunt were finished with Zurich, they’d turn their eyes on other nearby cities. London would make a tempting next target. Its supernatural population was even larger than Zurich’s.

“Maybe some supernatural group is trying to wage war on the others?” she added when no one said anything.

Marek gave up on his staring contest with Gaelyn. The old immortal looked more amused than annoyed, but that could change at any time. Even though he didn’t have the temper of the younger supernaturals, there was only so much lip the grandfather of immortality could take from a hotheaded mage.

“I’d put good money on the vampires being the culprits,” Marek said. “They’re a nasty lot with a long history of waging war on the other supernaturals.”

“Alexandria will check it out,” Gaelyn assured him, his gaze falling on the suitcase beside the front door. “You have a plane to catch. And you need to leave now, or you’ll miss the last flight out today. Your mother has made it clear to me that she would not…” Gaelyn smacked his lips, searching for the right word. “…
appreciate
that happening again.”

Marek snorted. “I’ll bet. Did sweet old Maggie scare you?”

“Your mother is formidable.”

“You have no idea.” Marek walked to the door, his steps fluid but fast. “I’ll be back in a few days, once the fun and games are over back home. Alex, try not to do anything reckless while I’m gone.”

“I’m never reckless.”

He turned toward her, hooking his hand around the handle of the suitcase. “Not even an hour ago, you got it into your head to shoot rocks at a gang of vampire elves.”

She grinned at him. “It got their attention.”

Marek looked at Gaelyn. “Try to talk some sense into her.”

After he and his suitcase had rolled out of the house, Alex emptied the last of her orange juice. Someone had spread her knives across the dining room table—probably Marek from the looks of the mystical-looking pattern. She gathered them up.

“I’ll look into the Orbs,” Alex said as she sheathed the knives. “And try to figure out who put a price on them.”

“That’s a lot of knives,” Gaelyn commented.

“Of course.” She tucked the final knife into place. “I wouldn’t want to be reckless.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Impulse.”

“That’s a vampire bar,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, it is.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Impulse

IMPULSE WAS A vampire-owned bar in District 4. The clientele wasn’t just vampires, though. The bar was the main watering hole for Zurich’s supernatural population. On any given night, it was packed full of all sorts of them. Mages, fairies, vampires—this is where they came to mingle. When visiting the bar, it was best to look as menacing as possible. Leather and steel usually did the trick.

Especially when dealing with gruff bouncers.

“I don’t know you,” the muscle man grunted.

Alex looked down at the hand he’d clamped onto her, then peeled it off her arm. “You’re new here,” she said. “You weren’t here when I came last weekend.”

She was bluffing. Big time. She hadn’t set foot inside Impulse in weeks, not since she and Marek had stopped by looking for a magic-drunk mage who got his kicks setting schoolhouses on fire.

“I started two days ago,” he admitted, dropping his hand.

She nodded and gave him a big smile. It wasn’t surprising actually. The vampires at Impulse fell into two categories: those few long-timers who’d figured out how to pick their battles, and a revolving door of short-lasting newbies. Mr. Muscles here was of the latter category. He hadn’t yet learned that immortality was no match for a room full of supernaturals drunk on magic cocktails. And self-entitlement, of course.

When Alex tried to pass him, he stepped into her path. “Supernaturals and their guests only, sweet pea.”

She had her sword out and pressed to his neck before he could say ‘vampire party mixer’. “I’m the Paranormal Vigilante.” She shot him her best demented smile. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

“Yes,” he said, low and quiet. He was trying really hard to keep his throat still beneath her blade.

“Let me pass.”

As he shuffled aside, she lowered her weapon.

“Enter at your own risk, Paranormal Vigilante.”

She glanced back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not the most popular person around here. Your reputation as a merciless cutthroat precedes you. The humans call you the Paranormal Vigilante. We supernaturals have a different name: Black Plague.”

Alex snorted. “Cute. But the only people who have reason to fear me are those who’ve done something wrong. Does Impulse make a habit of harboring criminals?”

“No,” he ground out. “Just watch your back in there.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A disclaimer. Impulse takes no responsibility for your safety. Or death.” A dash of crimson flashed briefly across his green eyes before fading out again.

“I’m a big girl. I can look out for myself.”

A familiar flyer was tacked to the notice board behind Muscles—the Fairy, Blood, Sorcery, and Otherwordly Orbs bolded in thick, fancy letters. Alex pushed through the swinging door and entered the inner sanctum of Impulse.

Inside, spinning lights pulsed in time to the heavy bass beat. Bodies—only some of them alive—swayed and bounced on the dance floor. A trio of vampires sat in a lounge area off to the side, dipping bread cubes into a boiling pot of thick red fluid. Blood fondue. Yuck.

Alex plugged her nose before the stench of bubbling blood reached her, then headed for the bar. A group of fairies sat there, sipping sparkling pink and silver Fairy Dust cocktails while flirting with the bartender. Their dresses had only marginally more material than a Brazilian bikini, and they were using them to their fullest potential. His other customers forgotten, the bartender was practically drooling in the fairies’ drinks.

A few stools down, a male mage in a russet cowboy jacket over a dark t-shirt was trying to get their attention by setting his drink aflame. And beside him, two summoner mages were making tiny dragons skip across the tabletop. The dragons’ fiery forms reflected off the glass fronts of the liquor cabinets behind the bar. Ghosts floated overhead, their translucent bodies dancing in swirling, shimmering loops to the music.

A song with a chirpy, bubblegum beat came on. The fairies jumped up and stormed the dance floor, much to the bartender’s dismay. Alex swooped in and took one of their seats.

“Hello, pretty,” said the drunk cowboy mage, leaning sideways to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He smelled like elemental magic and freshly cut grass. Burning grass.

Alex shrugged him off. “Your drink is on fire, hotshot.”

“You think that is hot?” He waved his hand over his drink, and the flames blazed higher. “I’ll show you the meaning of hot.”

Oh good, an idiot.
She kept her face neutral. She’d not come here to break noses.

“I’ll set your sheets on fire.”

On the other hand, some people were just asking for it.

“…burn the clothes right off you…”

Since when was being roasted alive a turn on?

“…your blood will boil…”

This was just getting better and better.

“…your skin scorch—”

“Hold your horses there, cowboy,” she cut in. “I don’t know about you, but where I come from, girls don’t enjoy being set on fire.”

He leaned in, wetting his lips. “And where’s that?”

“San Francisco.”

“San Francisco?” His flame went out. “You’re her. The Black Plague.”

She flashed him a grin. “I prefer Paranormal Vigilante.”

Without another word, the Cowboy stumbled off his stool and power-walked out of there. Either he’d been hit with the sudden urge to pee, or he was going to find a new hiding place for the packs of magical weeds stuffed inside his jacket’s inner pockets. He needn’t have bothered. Gaelyn only sent her after monsters and thieves, not drug dealers—not even drug dealers who dressed like cowboys.

“I’ve never seen Jack give up on a woman so easily,” the bartender said as he stopped in front of her.

“His name is Jack?”

“Yes. Why? Planning on hunting him down?”

“No.” She nearly gagged on her own tongue. “Jack the Cowboy? It’s just all wrong. Jack the Pirate maybe.”

His laugh was deep and pleasant—well, for a vampire, anyway. Just like the bouncer at the door, this guy’s magic had the elasticity of a shifter. If not for the heavy pop of blood magic, he might have been almost charming.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

Alex was hit by the sudden craving for a magic smoothie—or maybe that was just homesickness. “Pineapple juice.”

“So, what can you tell me about the Orbs of Essence?” she asked as he poured ice into a glass.

His hand froze over the glass. “Pardon?”

“The Orbs of Essence. Someone is after them.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

Liar.
The beat of his magic sped up, giving him away.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t know anything?” she asked. “Because the reward notice is posted on the message board at the front.”

“Is it?” His magic was galloping. He poured the juice over the ice. His hand shook, and he spilled a little. “Here you go.”

Then he walked over to the mage summoners he’d been ignoring up until now. Yeah, he knew something. Alex was about to test that theory, when someone slid onto the barstool next to hers.

“Vigilante.”

Alex knew that voice, and she wished she could have ignored him. But you didn’t ignore assassins, especially not an assassin who’d taken it upon himself to make her life a living hell ever since her arrival in Zurich. She turned her head and gave him a curt nod.

“Slayer.”

That’s what people called him. If he had another name, she didn’t know it. And she didn’t want to.

“You certainly have a way with people,” he said, his gaze darting briefly to the bartender before returning to her. His eyes were as green as the deep jungle—and just as deadly.

“Oh, assassins have great people skills?”

“I’ll have you know that mine is a time-honored profession.” His accent was frosted with a hint of something different. Australian? British? It wasn’t strong enough for her to be sure.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No.” He chuckled. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Alex took a sip of her juice. It was unusually sweet but still delicious. “What’s put you in such a good mood? Kill someone today?”

“Not today.” A cool smile slid up his lips. “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m armed,” she warned.

His eyes panned up her legs. “I can see that. Eight knives by my count, plus the sword. Planning on storming an enemy encampment tonight? Or do you just enjoy playing Warrior Princess?”

She sighed. “What do you want, Slayer?”

“Do I have to want something to pay my dear friend, the Paranormal Vigilante, a visit?”

“Yes. You never do anything without some sinister reason.”

“You don’t like me very much.”

“No.”

Swiveling his seat around to face her, he set his hand over his heart in mock despair.

“You’re a brutal killer,” she said.

“We’re a lot alike, you and I.”

“We’re
nothing
alike. You kill for profit. Or pleasure. I don’t even know,” she spat back, taking another sip before she could say something really nasty.

“Perhaps all the press has gone to your head, Vigilante. You are a mercenary. You fight for profit.” He leaned in, whispering, “But you know what I think? I think you like it.”

“I don’t—”

“The thump of your heart.” His breath caressed her skin, hot and thick. “The rush of adrenaline. Blood pumping to every part of your body.” He traced a finger down her arm. “It’s a high like no other.”

“I—”

“Well, almost no other,” he whispered against her cheek.

Then he pulled back, his smile smug, his eyes indecent. He was playing her. Again. Alex resisted the urge to kick him in the shin. She settled for kicking his chair. As it began to spin, he caught his hand on the bar, pushing himself back around to face her.

“Let me order you a drink,” he said.

“So you can poison me? I don’t think so.”

“You wound me. If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn’t have let you see me first.”

“Sure you would have. Your ego demands seeing your victim die.”

He expelled a heavy sigh. “I promise I won’t try to kill you.”

“Your word as an assassin?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, but I just don’t trust you. Your promises last only as long as your next assignment. You have no problem selling out to the highest bidder.”

“Nice boots,” he said, looking at them. “Are they new?”

“What?”

“The first time I saw you, your shoes were peeling and your clothes were torn. Nowadays, you walk around in fancy boots and designer threads. Working for Gaelyn must pay well.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you’re a mercenary. You yourself have no problem selling out to the highest bidder.”

“Gaelyn is a philanthropist. He’s hired me to hunt down monsters and supernaturals who hurt people. Your clients hire you to kill people they don’t like. If someone offered you enough to take out the Paranormal Vigilante, you wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“I don’t know about that. I might hesitate a little.”

She glared at him. “You think this is funny, do you?”

“Of course it’s funny. This whole thing is completely absurd. No one could pay me enough to go after you.”

“Oh, like me that much?”

“Yes, there’s that.” He winked at her. “But mainly I just don’t want to go toe-to-toe with you. You fight mean.”

“Not as mean as you do.”

“I don’t know about that. I saw you staple those vampire elves together with your daggers.”

She downed the rest of her drink. “You were spying on me?”

“Observing from the shadows.”

“Like any good assassin?”

“Naturally.”

She snorted.

“I appreciate the way you fight. I’ve rarely met anyone so skilled, Alex.”

“How do you know my name?”