Page 1

Lach

Death waited on our every street corner.

It had followed me most of my life, allowing itself to be borrowed as needed. It saw the blood on my hands no matter how often I washed them. There were eight million souls in New York City, but death watched every step I took, biding its time until its turn to collect.

Any day now.

The city had changed since the last time I stepped foot in it. The sandstone and masonry giants of old were dwarfed now by towering glass-and-steel monoliths. Lurid billboards flashed advertisements, their light shimmering on the rain-slicked sidewalks. A damp earthiness from today’s afternoon shower nearly masked the scent of rotting garbage and exhaust fumes. Under it all was that humming energy that never slept—but even this felt different than it had before the war.

Then, with Earth’s magic cursed, I had been one of the most powerful creatures to stalk these streets. Now, magic simmered, hanging in the air like the ever-present sounds of traffic and chaos, and the city was once again a melting pot of creatures. Vampires, werewolves, witches—most with their own agendas and all vying for power—brushing shoulders with clueless mortals, the line between worlds blurring like ink on wet paper.

I kept to back alleys and side streets, using a system of portals hidden in plain view of the city’s human population. I turned my collar up to block the misty rain but didn’t slow my pace. I’d been in the city for two days, and the chill October evening only made me miss the Louisiana heat more. The thought elicited a pang of longing that had nothing to do with New Orleans.

It had been two days since Cate disappeared. Two days of waiting for an explanation from her foster brother, Channing, about his involvement with her kidnapping. Two days of being stuck in my sister Fiona’s tiny apartment while her girlfriend, Romy, consulted grimoires and called in favors to try to remove my newest tattoo—the mark on my neck that branded me a dead man walking. Two days of waiting for news out of the Infernal Court. Two days of silence from my own court as they dealt with the fallout of me killing MacAlister. Two fucking days , and I was losing my gods-damned mind.

A car horn blasted as I passed the western edge of Washington Square Park. My pace quickened as I reached Third and spotted a forlorn alley that extended only a few feet past the main thruway. I hesitated before ducking in, but no one noticed. Just as they didn’t notice as I vanished past where it—and the modern world—ended and continued into long-forgotten Amity, the magical enclave tucked into a pocket of Greenwich Village.

It hadn’t always been the case. When New York renamed the neighborhood streets to align with the grid and erased others from existence, Amity had hidden itself away from the city’s human inhabitants and continued with its way of life as best it could while magic slumbered.

But even with newly awakened magic seeping into its cracks and crevices, the city’s creatures were still ones of habit, so it was no surprise to find a green light still glowing above a battered black door nearly a century later. I rapped once, the knock deliberate but discreet, and a peephole slid open.

A pair of glittering black eyes stared out at me, but their owner didn’t speak.

“I’m here to see Durant.” My resolve hardened around the hole in my heart. There was no point in introductions. That would only get me killed. I just needed to get past the gatekeeper.

“Durant isn’t taking visitors,” she said in a rough whisper and slid the peephole shut again.

So, that’s how it was going to be.

I cracked my knuckles once before nipping—snapping my fingers and rematerializing—into the vestibule, a choice I had no doubt I would pay for shortly. The owner of the glittering eyes, a woman in a tight leather dress that showcased her ample curves, stared for a moment. Her scarlet hair, cut in sharp angles, drew attention to full lips that opened with a hiss as I dropped my glamour. She lunged at me, fangs lengthening and eyes shifting to pure black.

I nipped to the other side of the tight space. “I wasn’t asking.”

“We don’t allow fae pieces of—”

“I would choose my next words carefully,” I warned her. Rage pounded in my chest, begging to be released. “I’m having a really bad week.” I flashed the inside of my coat, giving her a glimpse of one holster.

Would it be bad manners to shoot one of Durant’s people in his own place? Undoubtedly. But even with a death mark on my head, I knew no vampire would question fae royalty.

She paused, but a sneer curled her lip. “Is that supposed to scare me? Bullets don’t kill vampires.”

“But they do hurt, and we both know you’d rather I shot you than stake you.” One would kill her, and we both knew it. I dared her to test me. I’d been feeding my fury every day, unwilling to cave in to despair. But now that rage demanded action, preferably with a fair amount of blood.

She considered for a second before tilting her head toward an unmarked door behind the bar. “He’s in the back.”

“Thank you.” I tipped my head at her.

But she was already slinking toward the bar, where she reached for a bottle of something that looked like blood and poured herself a drink.

Squat armchairs upholstered in jewel-toned velvet were clustered around marble tables in dimly lit pockets that hid the faces of the creatures I passed. Most of the patrons in the speakeasy kept their heads down, either not eager to get involved or more interested in their absinthe and opium. Still, a few couldn’t resist the urge to stare. I was a novelty in a place like this. Fae tended to stick to their home courts, where their magic was at its strongest. Only the strongest of us could call upon ours, let alone nip, this far away from home.

But no one tried to stop me as I headed toward another door in the back. The word office, stamped in gold vinyl on its frosted window, was the only clue as to what waited behind it. The room inside was larger than the main floor of the speakeasy. A behemoth oak desk covered in stacks of paper and ledgers sat on one side with two empty leather club chairs before it. There was a bank of security monitors hanging on the wall, and in the center of the room, a motley group was packed around a small table, cigars and cards in hand.

Every creature froze at my entrance. Then, one by one, they threw their cards on the table. All but one.

I met Durant’s rapidly darkening eyes and nodded hello. He glanced at his companions, sighing at the abandoned cards on the table before him, and waved a hand. “Leave us.”

Curious eyes probed me as the creatures gathered their winnings and shuffled out of the back room, glancing back nervously at the money on the table. But I ignored them, unwilling to let my old friend out of my sight. Mostly because I wasn’t sure that Durant still qualified as a friend, or whatever passed for friendship between our kinds. Vampires always had their own agendas—as did we—so even when we were on good terms, neither species trusted the other.

“I can’t believe Veronica let you in here,” he said when they were gone.

“I didn’t give her a choice,” I admitted.

Durant lounged back, and his open shirt collar revealed a coin pendant hanging from a cord. His hair, nearly as pale as his skin, was longer than I’d seen it in a century. He toyed with one of his leather gloves thoughtfully, and then, in a flash, a gun was pointed in my direction. “You are the last sorry piece of shit I expected to drag his ass in here tonight. I ought to kill you for what you did.”

Not friends, then.

I didn’t bother to draw my own weapon. Instead, I slid a smile onto my face. “Your sister is better off without me.” I lifted my hands in obligatory surrender. “Besides that, I’m a changed man.”

The skin on my wrist itched at the words, as if to remind me just how changed I was. The intersecting ribbons of gold—proof of my newest bargain and one that could never be broken—were hidden beneath their own glamour, but I never forgot they were there. The mark of our handfasting—a bond sealed by fate—burned and ached on my skin, and I doubted it would calm until Cate was safely by my side.

Durant stared over the barrel of his 9-millimeter, a slow grin breaking across his face. “My sister? I was talking about you cheating at cards the last time I visited New Orleans.” Just as quickly as it appeared, the gun was re-holstered. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket, then crossed the room with a swift grace that belied his true nature. “I owe you one for my sister. She is better off without you. I might have had to kill you if you had stuck it out.”

Without warning, he slung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a hug. My chest tightened with wary surprise, but I clapped a hand on his back. At least Durant was a lot more forgiving than his sister.

“Just stopping by for a visit?” He pointed to the pair of twin chairs situated before the oak desk. I sank into the red leather seat, but Durant continued to a gold bar cart and poured two glasses of whiskey.

“I need information.” There was no point circling around that fact. Friendly charade aside, we both knew better than to trust each other. That was the trouble with arms dealers— and vampires. They were notoriously slippery.

He turned and passed a crystal glass to me. I took it but didn’t drink.

“Like the fact that you’re marked by the Wild Hunt?” he asked.

I lifted a brow. So he knew. That didn’t surprise me—it was why I’d come to him. He dealt in more than just weapons. “I see good news travels fast.”

“You pissed off a lot of people in your day. Your enemies are happy to drink to your imminent demise. That tattoo on your neck doesn’t help.”

I touched the raised tattoo on the back of my neck and frowned. The Hunt’s brand couldn’t be glamoured, and I kept forgetting it was there. The winged skull and crossbones held an ancient warning that every creature understood. Memento mori : remember that you will die.

But I wasn’t going to die today. Not before I found Cate.

Durant sank into the chair across the desk from me and took a slow sip of his whiskey, glancing at the untouched glass in my hand. “If I wanted you dead, I would have just shot you.”

But we both knew the drink was laced. Not with poison, but with something that leveled the playing field. Yarrow? Probably hedgethorne. Both herbs would limit my ability to call on my magic, ensuring I wouldn’t use it against Durant but also that I couldn’t escape. The drink was a test.

I lifted the glass with a grim smile and took a sip. The whiskey did a decent job hiding the herbs, save for a slight trace of bittersweetness.

I had either proved to Durant that he could relax—or that I was so desperate I was stupid. “You have contacts in London, don’t you?” I pressed on.

He inclined his head, eyes narrowing before he answered, “I do. Trouble with the Infernal Court?”

“I need to pay Bain a surprise visit. His club is open twenty-four hours. It would be useful to know when he visits.” Now my cards were on the table. Durant could just as easily decide to betray me as help me, especially since he knew about the death mark on my head. I couldn’t nip directly into another court without an invitation, but I could walk through the front doors. I just needed to be prepared.

The vampire blew a slow stream of air out, blinking a few times as he processed this request. “London is tricky. I…shall we say… don’t get along with the Rousseaux brother who oversees vampire-fae relationships there.”

“You? But you’re so charming.” I took another drink, the whiskey blazing a trail of fire down my throat. It felt good after settling for Fiona’s wine. But I could feel the grip on my magic both loosen and fumble, like fingers frozen from the cold. Still there but increasingly worthless. Soon I’d be cut off from it entirely.

“I can get information, but it will cost you,” he warned me.

“I’m willing to pay.” I reached slowly into my pocket. Durant tensed as I produced a slip of paper. I held it up like a white flag. “I also need some weapons.”

He swiped it from me, letting out a low whistle as he skimmed the list. “What did Bain do to bring war to his doorstep?”

It wasn’t like him to care about the particulars.

“You aren’t growing a conscience, are you?” The less Durant knew, the better. He might choose to help me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help the next person who came along asking for information, too.

He only snorted, grinning again. “There is no danger of that.”

But I didn’t meet his smile. “Bain knows what he did.” Cate’s face flashed through my mind, and I fought the painful but now familiar urge to nip directly to the gates of the Infernal Court and just start killing my way in. “Blood spilled is blood owed.”

Durant chewed his lower lip for a moment before nodding. Vampires lived by a similar code. “That works both ways.”

“I’m a dead man anyhow.” This time, I smiled.

He studied the list more closely, shaking his head again. “It might take me a few days.” He tapped the paper. “Grenades?”

“I don’t have a few days,” I growled, my control slipping its leash as my heart began to pound. I should have already gone after her. Gods knew what Bain had done in the last few days . “This is a matter of life and death.”

“Isn’t that always the case for you?”

Before I could answer, a red light flashed overhead, and I found myself twisting toward the door. Warning prickled the memento mori on my neck.

“It looks like we have company.” Durant nodded to one of the security monitors above his desk. Six fae, looking like a crew of reject rock stars, approached the bar. The one in the lead signaled Veronica, the vampire from earlier, shouting something. She leaped over the bar, catching a bullet squarely in the chest and crumpling into a heap on the floor. The screen blurred as creatures fled before giving way to static, the feed cutting off.

I swiveled toward Durant, reaching for my gun, suspicion flooding through my veins. After all these years, I should have known better than to trust him and been smarter than to take that drink. My fingers twitched, ready to nip away, but Durant slid open a drawer filled with guns and ammo.

“You should go if you can still nip. I’m guessing they’re here for you,” he said, threading a silencer onto the end of his pistol. “I can handle them.”

My thumb stroked the pad of my forefinger, already feeling my magic dim from the drugged whiskey. I had minutes before I lost access to it entirely—if I was lucky. If I nipped out, I might have seconds before they traced me to another location, and I couldn’t risk leading them back to Romy, my sister’s reluctantly helpful witch girlfriend. It was better to stay and fight it out. But better felt pretty fucking relative at the moment.

Only members of the Wild Hunt would have the balls to attack someone like Durant on his own turf, but he was outnumbered, and the Hunt wouldn’t take kindly to him helping me. They might spare the vampire or decide to make him an object lesson. And if they did, I would have to explain what happened to Durant’s sister. I reached for a second gun instead of taking his advice. “If you get killed, Baptiste will make my life hell. I’d stand a better chance with them.”

He laughed as something—or more likely, someone—slammed into the other side of the door.

“How much shit did you put in my drink?”

His eyes scanned the security monitor, his voice low and grim. “Enough to make this messy.”

Muffled footsteps sounded outside his office, followed by the echo of shattering glass a moment before the door burst open, breaching Durant’s inner sanctum. I moved instinctively, placing my back to his as the fae poured inside. Behind them, patrons scattered and fled into the night.

“Lachlan Gage, you are marked for death for the assassination of a penumbra,” the one in the lead announced, leveling his weapon directly at me.

I returned the favor. As I skimmed the group, my eyes paused on one of the men in the back. His long black hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck, a single braided plait framing his face. Goemon looked back without a hint of recognition. He had let me walk out of the bayou despite the memento mori branding me, but I knew better than to expect another mercy.

The leader’s eyes flickered to my companion, growing wary as he realized what Durant was. A vampire changed the math. “We’re only here to collect him. We don’t want trouble.”

“How unfortunate,” Durant said with a battle-hardened resolve as he slid off the safety on his gun and aimed at the others. “You found it.”

I stared back at the leader. “So we suggest you walk out of here while you still can.”

“You can’t run from the Hunt, Prince.” He spat the word at me like venom.

“Who’s running? I’m right here.” Running only meant they would follow, which meant collateral damage. I needed to put them down.

He stepped away from the pack, nodding toward the ground. “Then let’s do this the easy way. Get on your knees. We’ll make it quick.”

I cocked my head, fumbling for the threads of magic growing fainter by the second. My grip tightened, but my power slipped through my fingers. Soon I would be little better than a mortal, but the Hunt didn’t know that. “I’ve never really liked the easy way.”

I needed to make this count.

He lunged, and I snapped my fingers, reappearing behind him and taking a quick, clean shot. His body collapsed in a pool of blood, and I dove toward the desk as the others opened fire.

Durant dropped beside me as wood splintered, shards spraying the air as we pressed our backs to it.

“Neat trick. Want to see what I can do?” Durant called over the staccato pops.

“I’ll cover you.” I summoned my magic. Darkness choked the air, cutting off all light and sound. My eyes adjusted effortlessly, the shadows my natural habitat. Durant’s own shifted to pitch black—a perfect predator. Nipping was a useful advantage, but they expected that. A vampire and a fae working together was harder to anticipate.

The huntsmen were not creatures of my court. Darkness did not run in their veins. Durant used the distraction to his advantage, vaulting over the desk in a blur of fangs. I leaped up and began shooting as he ripped out one’s throat and another’s heart. He moved in the shadows with effortless grace, a creature of the night as deadly as the immortal soldiers. A bullet whistled past, grazing my neck. I sent another in the opposite direction, and a body hit the floor.

“On your left!” I shouted as a huntsman bolted toward Durant.

The vampire twisted, the movement as feline and lethal as a panther, and pounced, gutting the fae with brutal efficiency. But it cost him. The final hunter sent a bullet through his shoulder. Durant roared as its iron slug shattered bone, blood spraying in his face. I had the hunter by the neck before he got off another shot, my shadows surging from my body, coiling like serpents around him before plucking the gun from his fingers.

The move cost me what little magic I had left after Durant’s drugged drink. My magic guttered and then sputtered out entirely. It would be a few hours before I could easily access it again.

I stared into Goemon’s face. “Strange seeing you out of the bayou.”

“Can’t say I like it.” The words were strained from my hand wrapped around his throat, but he didn’t struggle. “Too many people. It made it harder to track you.”

I’d resisted the urge to use magic since the night I arrived at Fiona’s. Her warded apartment had kept them from finding me, but they’d arrived within minutes of me nipping past the vampire at the door. “You got here awfully fast.”

“We were told you were in New York,” he admitted. “We were beginning to think it was bad info, but then you nipped. You’ve been wise to use your magic sparingly.”

Was he…helping me? Giving me information about how the Hunt worked? I’d sentenced plenty of people to their fate at the hands of his crew, but I knew little about how they operated or how their magic worked. I only knew that they were relentless.

I loosened my grip ever so slightly.

“But it’s only a matter of time before we find you again.” Not a threat. A warning.

“I’ll try to keep a low profile.”

“It won’t matter, but you already know that,” he said. “If you have unfinished business…”

My throat tightened, and I nodded once just to show him I understood. Maybe he remembered Cate. Maybe he just didn’t want to be the one to kill me. But eventually, he would have no choice but to carry out his mission.

“Make it quick,” he gritted out.

“Thanks.” I snapped his neck, letting his body fall to my feet. I didn’t look down at him.

“I forgot how much your stupid bullets hurt.” Durant cursed as he rose to his feet, slowed down by his mangled shoulder. He clamped a hand over the gushing wound, scowling as he looked around his office. “I’m going to get an earful about this mess when Veronica wakes up.”

Blood was…everywhere.

“I’d stay and help, but somehow—”

“I would just wind up with a bigger mess.” Durant kicked one of the bodies with the toe of his leather boot.

“They’re not dead, and they’re going to be pissed when they resurrect,” I warned him. Even those with iron bullets riddling their bodies would eventually come back to life to fulfill their divine mission. Their perfect immortality was both their blessing and their curse. It also made them unstoppable.

“I’ll dump them in the Hudson. That’ll slow them down.” He regarded me for a moment, his face unreadable. “At the risk of sounding sentimental, I think you’d better get out of New York before they wake up.”

“Worried about me? That’s so sweet.” I passed him back his gun.

“Keep it.” He walked toward a keypad on the wall. His fingers ghosted over it, and a crack appeared, sliding open to reveal a full weapons cache. “I think I’d better send some of this with you now.”

“I owe you one.”

“Consider this my official thanks for dumping my sister,” he said as he piled weapons into two black duffel bags. “A friend of mine works security at Bain’s club. I’ll give him a call.”

“Thank you,” I said as he passed me the bags. I shrugged them over my shoulders, relaxing a little at the comforting weight, then gestured to his wound. “Is that going to be okay?”

Vampires healed quickly, but it was a bloody mess.

“I’ll live, but you better get that checked out.” He tipped his head, eyeing the gash on my neck. “If you want, I can dig up a Band-Aid.”

I muttered something uncharitable, and he chuckled. Offering his hand, he clasped mine in a solid grip. “In all seriousness, Gage, it seems like you have an enemy a lot closer than London.”

“Men like us always have enemies.”

“That’s why we have to remember who our friends are.” He clapped one hand on my shoulder, his eyes locking with mine. “Stay alive.”

We made our way into the main bar, where a few of the vampires were stirring back to life.

“They didn’t kill anyone.” Durant sounded surprised as he looked around.

The Hunt had inflicted plenty of damage, though. Liquor dripped from broken bottles onto the floor, tables and chairs were overturned, and bullet holes riddled each wall. “Maybe I should stick around.”

Behind the bar, Veronica started to push up, her scarlet hair now matted with blood.

“I think you better get out of here before she sees you,” Durant said as she moaned. “She’ll hand you your ass without your magic.”

I doubted that, but I gave him a grateful nod.

Night air stung the wound on my neck as I pushed out the door. No magic meant it would take its sweet time healing, and the iron in the slug wouldn’t help matters. But it had finally stopped raining, and the moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky. I melted into the night, tugging the collar of my coat higher to hide my pointed ears. Not that anyone would notice in the bedlam of New York. With the Hunt temporarily incapacitated, there was little danger in the city tonight.

The Hunt had overplayed its hand. If Durant followed through and dumped the ones who’d attacked us in the river, they might drown a couple of times before they made it to dry land. And I doubted more would show their faces now that they had pissed off one of the most powerful vampires in New York.

Between the blood I’d spilled and the task before me, I had to think before making my next move. But there was precious little time before I needed to act.

Durant was right—I had an enemy a lot closer than London. Maybe someone at his place had called the Wild Hunt, but doubt gnawed at me. First, the tainted clover. Then MacAlister had made it past my security at the Nether Court after his invitation had been rescinded and attacked Cate. Was there a snake in my own garden?

Raindrops hit my face, along with a dozen new questions, each more chilling than the last. It wasn’t over. The storm was just beginning.