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The photo sits heavy in my pocket. I can’t bear to look at it again; I can’t bear to get rid of it either.

I’ve savored almost all the information I’ve learned of Callie since we’ve been apart. How much of a ballbuster she is now, how resourceful she can be. How she could’ve used her voice to become a singer or her body to become a model, but instead she used her wits and her spirit to become a private investigator.

I’ve savored almost all the information I’ve learned … except for this.

That face I dream about, with those smiling eyes and beguiling mouth. Right now they’re looking at another man, kissing another mouth, and I have the proof of it in my pocket.

A hot wave of jealousy rises up in me.

Damnit, I can’t get the photo out of my mind, though it’s been over an hour since I last looked at it. The tight embrace the two shared outside the man’s apartment. I can taste bile at the back of my throat.

Should’ve been me.

I didn’t want to know the rest of what happened between the two, but I learned it nonetheless. How she joined him inside the apartment, how she didn’t leave until the early hours of the morning, slipping away like a villain from the scene of a crime, her clothes a little disheveled, her hair a little messy.

I flag down the waiter for another shot. When he slides it to me and I throw it back, the tequila tastes like water.

How long I’ve waited for my mate, and how quickly she was snatched just beyond my reach.

I have a rare moment of self-pity.

I’m the powerless bastard all those fae thought I was growing up. And the human mate my father derided me for, the one I spent decades denying, is now being pleasured by some other man while I sit here, numbing my sorrows on mortal brew.

Just as quickly as the pity comes, it burns away. Taking its place is anger—dark, smoldering anger.

I need to pound my fist into flesh.

I throw a few twenties on the table and leave the bar, going through my list of clients and honing in on the meanest motherfuckers who were never planning on paying me back without a fight. When I lay into them tonight, I’ll imagine it’s a different face, a different man.

Anything to dull this ache and expel this anger.

Perhaps I’ll even leave my business card behind as a tantalizing breadcrumb that the Politia can add to their ever-thickening file on me. Maybe it’ll even catch Callie’s notice. You never know.

Regardless, it’s about time I reminded humans why the Bargainer is someone to fear.

Part III

Till Darkness Dies

Chapter 22

Reunion

Less than a year ago

I pass throughmy Catalina home and out onto my back porch. The sun sets on the Pacific Ocean, lighting the sky on fire as it descends beneath the horizon.

Across the vast miles of sea that spreads out from beyond my property, I can just barely make out the hazy Malibu hills.

My chest aches at the sight.

She’s somewhere over there, so close it feels like I could reach out and touch her, but so far I despair I’ll ever feel her skin beneath my fingers again.

I force my wings to manifest, then spread them wide. They soak in the last dying rays of the sun.

I bend my knees, then with one great thrust, I leap into the sky.

Just as I do every other evening, I fly towards that distant California shore, aiming for Callie’s house. It’s become something of a ritual, trying to see just how close I can get to her before my magic stops me.