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FIVE

Sorsha

“Wait,” Vivi said, lowering her half-eaten butterscotch chocolate-chip cookie. “So, this badass shadowkind boss named his station wagon Betsy ?” A snicker escaped her. Then she half-choked on the bite she’d just taken and sputtered several coughs, still managing to sound amused.

I grinned back at her. “That’s right.” Basking in the hot late-afternoon sun across the glass-topped café table from my bestie, I found it easier to let go of the uneasiness Omen had stirred up in me and simply laugh about him. Sweet cinnamon sparkles, had I missed having Vivi here to shoot the breeze with.

The only thing that might have elevated our reunion more was if we’d felt confident enough to drop in on our favorite dessert place near her parents’ house, which we’d visited nearly every week when I’d stayed with her family in the first year after Luna’s death. But this new spot, where we’d nabbed a table on the sunny back patio, had already more than met my best friend’s approval. After one nibble, she’d declared her cookie was “the cream of the icing on the cake.”

“And how does Omen feel about you hanging out with me, if he’s so down on mortals in general?” she asked now.

My spirits sank a little, but I kept my smile. “I convinced him you’d cause way less carnage if I gave you the low-down than if you were running around the city without the full story. He still attempted to burn a hole through my head with his glare.”

Vivi made a show of checking my face over. “Didn’t work. Not so powerful after all, I guess.” She paused, her own grin fading. “ Is that the full story now?”

“All the important parts. If I went into every detail, we’d be here for a couple of weeks.” And I wasn’t sure I wanted to fill her in on every detail when those details included things like Thorn tearing the heads off of guards to avenge my shoulder wound. It was hard to see moments like that in a positive light if you hadn’t been there.

I wanted Vivi to keep a positive outlook on my new companions specifically because I’d predicted her next question. She leaned her elbows on the table and gazed at me coyly through her eyelashes. “And when am I going to meet your incredibly hot new boyfriends?”

I’d skipped most of the details there too, but maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned just how friendly I’d gotten with my trio at all. I popped one last bite of my blueberry pie into my mouth and waggled my fork at Vivi. “They’re not exactly my boyfriends. It’s not as if a mortal could really date a shadowkind guy, let alone three of them.”

She waved my protest away. “Okay, your new cuddle-buddies. Whatever you want to call them, the question stands. I promise not to try to steal them away from you, but you’ve got to at least share the eye-candy.”

“We’ll see. I’m not sure I want Omen knowing any more about you than he already does.” And I also wasn’t sure she wouldn’t think I was bonkers once she took in the full reality of the trio. I’d gotten to know them—in ways both literal and biblical—enough that their oddities didn’t faze me, but Vivi had never been all that close with any shadowkind before. I didn’t think she could even totally understand the bond I’d had with Luna.

For all the polite language they used and all the work they put into protecting shadowkind creatures, most of the Fund members never stopped thinking of those beings as monsters.

“Fine.” Vivi wrinkled her nose at me and recovered her grin. “You are at least going to let me help out now, right? I need to get in at least one grand adventure before I hit thirty, or what the hell am I doing with my life? I can be very useful, I’ll have you know. Look at me, all professional poise.”

She gestured to her outfit, which as always was white from neck to toe: an ivory blouse and wide-leg dress pants over strappy sandals with a reserved twinkle of gold at the buckles. Even with the explosion of dark curls that burst at the back of her head from the tight braids along the rest of her scalp, she did exude a certain elegance that I doubted I’d ever pull off. Being raised by a shadowkind left a person a little feral in ways it was difficult to shake.

“I’ll give you that,” I said. “Let’s see what comes out of the, um, meeting tonight, and I’ll let you know where we need you.”

She gave me a questioning look at that statement, but I held up my hands in a gesture for mercy. I wasn’t shutting Vivi out this time around, but I sure as sugar wasn’t dragging her off to a direct ambush of the murderous and potentially psychotic sword-star crew. Especially when she still saw this as an adventure, even if she realized it was a dangerous one now.

I had to get going to prepare for that ambush. As we left the café, I gave Vivi a tight hug, as if I could absorb her cheer into me to bolster me through the battle ahead. We said our “Ditto”s, and I headed for the spot where the quartet was meant to pick me up, singing a little song to inspire myself. “We’ll touch and surround, I’m on the hunt this af-ter-noon.”

Omen eyed me as I got into the back seat of the station wagon as if checking me over for mortal cootie contamination. I was mature enough at that particular moment not to stick my tongue out at him in return. The other three were sticking to the shadows as they often did in the car, but I took a little comfort in knowing I wasn’t actually alone with the dude.

“Vivi’s going to be chill,” I told him. “She won’t stick her nose in unless I ask her to—and I’ll only ask her with something really specific that none of us can do.”

Bossypants let out a grunt that seemed to say he couldn’t imagine there being any task fitting that criteria and switched the car into drive. I drew in another sniff of that odd smell that clung to the vehicle’s interior. Dry, smoky, a little savory, with that trace of minerals… Maybe he crisped chicken wings on a tray of scorching crystals in his spare time? It could be some weird shadowkind hobby no one had bothered to tell me about.

Ruse’s charmed hacker had dug up the details of the hand-off we were heading to. It was supposedly taking place an hour after sunset in the parking lot of a mini-golf course. Not your typical spot for illicit exchanges of creatures the average mortal didn’t even believe existed, but when we slunk over after leaving Betsy a short distance away, I could see why they’d picked it.

The course with its candy-bright painted fixtures—a windmill here, a castle there—surrounded the parking lot on two sides and was big enough that no one farther afield would have been able to see what was happening in the lot. A dingy warehouse offered a windowless brick wall on the third side, so no witnesses there. At the road, someone had conveniently left a dumpster full of construction rubble where it blocked most of the view of the span of asphalt, and the nearest streetlamps had burnt out. By a total coincidence, no doubt.

We’d arrived just as the sun was setting. The shadows of the miniature structures stretched twice as long as the actual fixtures across the patches of green. Ruse slipped through the shadows to unlock the gate so I could follow them in.

“Your only job is to hang back until we have our prize,” Omen ordered me. He pointed to the roof of the hut that held the ticket sales booth and equipment. “Thorn will boost you up there. Stay out of view and watch the transaction. I only want to hear or see you if you spot something from up there that the rest of us need to know. Once we’ve trapped one of their number, then you can jump in to remove protective wards as necessary.”

“And to open the cage to let their shadowkind prisoner out,” Snap piped up.

“Yes, that too,” Omen muttered as if annoyed at the reminder that I would be useful in more than one way. He fixed his stare on me. “Got it?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” I said dryly. I suspected he’d have tried to lock me in the car instead of letting me tag along at all if he’d thought there was any chance that car could hold me for more than a minute. But even he couldn’t deny the value of my immunity to the materials that deflected shadowkind powers.

Just in case I found a good use for it, I picked up one of the mini-golf clubs and swung it experimentally through the air. A little light, but it had decent heft to it. For good measure, I stuffed several of the small but incredibly dense golf balls into the pouches on my belt.

I’d decked myself out in full cat-burglar gear for this operation. If I didn’t move or speak, I’d be nothing but a shadow on the rooftop, even my red hair hidden under the black knit cap. Thank flaming eels the evening was already starting to cool off, or I’d have been a puddle of sweat in a matter of seconds.

Thorn gave me a boost to the edge of the roof, and I scrambled across it to duck down behind one of the fake gables. Peeking over the protruding section, I could make out the edge of the golf course and all of the parking lot.

The shadowkind quartet had discussed their plans in more depth while I’d been chatting with Vivi. As I settled into my position, they vanished into the shadows. From what I’d gathered, they were going to station themselves in a rough circle around the parking lot. The idea was to watch the hand-off long enough to determine the sword-star crew’s usual procedures, and then—unless the squad appeared too well-equipped—charge in, free the shadowkind the collector was selling to them, and snatch one of the sword-star employees for later questioning.

I shifted my position on the clay tiles a few times, my back getting stiff and my shoulder achy from my hunched posture. Every time a car rumbled by through the deepening evening dark, I froze. Finally, a black van that looked like the sort of vehicle used to transport large livestock pulled into the lot. It parked in the far corner where the golf course rubbed up against the warehouse.

Only one figure stepped out—the collector, I assumed. At first glance, he could have passed for an evil-genius supervillain from the type of comic books I was guessing our hacker had read too many of. The dome of his bald, bulbous head shone in the faint light from the far-off streetlamps, and he wore a gray suit with its square collar buttoned right up to his chin. I half expected him to produce a monocle from his chest pocket.

Then I noticed the sheen of perspiration that caught even more of the light than the pale skin of his scalp. The dude might have supervillain fashion aspirations, but super-confident he was not.

It took another ten minutes before a second vehicle growled into the lot: a white delivery truck with a bakery logo painted on the side. A fake business, or another front like the discount toy store the sword-star crew had run some of their operations out of? I made a mental note of the name in case it was the latter.

Five figures emerged from the truck. They wore the silver-and-iron helmets and plated vests that we’d seen before. All shadowkind found one if not both of those metals repellent, but they couldn’t block Thorn’s physical strength or whatever concrete tricks Omen had dreamed up.

One of the figures appeared to have a whip, probably one of those glowing laser-y ones, at his hip, but they weren’t holding any weapons. It looked like they didn’t anticipate dealing with any hostile parties in this transaction.

Exactly as we’d hoped.

The sweaty collector opened the back door to his van. Searing light spilled out—he’d have bright lamps set up all around the cage that must be holding the powerful creature to prevent it from slipping away into the shadows. The sword-star bunch wheeled a container like an oversized gym locker out of the back of their truck and set it facing the van. It looked like they meant to transfer the cage from the van into that box, which must have lights of its own.

Before they got that far, four shadowy forms hurtled into the lot. I couldn’t make out much of their faces through the blur of darkness still clinging to them, but the massive shape bashing two of the sword-star crew off their feet was obviously Thorn.

The other three shadowkind didn’t dare get quite as close to our enemies and their noxious armor. Ruse lashed some sort of rope at the collector’s legs and yanked it so he tumbled onto the ground, his knees locked together. As the not-at-all-super villain started sniveling like a kindergartener, Omen and Snap tossed thick sheets over the two attackers Thorn had felled. Whatever those were made of, the material was heavy enough to hold the men in place.

Thorn was still dealing with the rest of the sword-star crew. He snatched the man with the whip by the wrists and hurled him over the fence to crash into the mini-golf castle. The dude slumped, one of the turrets wobbling and then plummeting to smack him in the head for good measure. Another asshole got a punch in the throat with the warrior’s crystalline knuckles. A gurgle escaped the gaping wound as he collapsed in a bloody mess.

The last of our enemies had taken advantage of Thorn’s distraction. The guy thrust a metal rod at the warrior’s back, and sparks spurted against Thorn’s tunic. The huge shadowkind shuddered, a spasm gripping his limbs for a second as he wrenched himself around. Meanwhile, the prick who’d broken the poor castle was managing to pick himself up, whip in hand.

Oh no, he didn’t. “Thorn!” I called out in warning, springing to my feet. My hand had already shot to one of my pouches. My fingers curled around a golf ball, and I flung it at the guy with the rod.

It nailed him in the back of the helmet with a dull clang—I’d call that a hole in one. With a victory whoop, I pitched another few his way, pelting him for long enough that he wasn’t prepared for Thorn’s punch. The warrior’s rigid knuckles smashed right into his face. I averted my gaze from the spurt of blood.

Good thing, because the castle dude was dashing back toward the chain-link fence, whip ready. I leapt from the hut’s roof onto a plaster drawbridge and from there to the ground. As the guy moved to heave himself over the fence, I thwacked him across the ear with the golf club, just below the base of his helmet. His head swayed, and I aimed the putter at the top of the helmet this time. With one solid swing, I smacked the protection right off him.

Omen was there as if he’d been waiting for just that chance. The second the helmet careened off, our leader slammed the sword-star guy’s forehead into the bar along the top of the fence hard enough to shatter his skull.

Okay, then. He might not have Thorn’s bulk, but he wasn’t lacking in bodily power. Note to self: don’t get too far on this dude’s bad side.

The two surviving members of the sword-star crew squirmed under the heavy sheets ineffectually. Omen stalked up to the collector, who was huddled by his van sobbing with shaky gulps for air.

“Tell all your collector friends that we see them, and we’ll come for them, one by one,” Omen said, his voice taut with threat. “Maybe if you scurry away and hide, we won’t find you, but anyone who decides to do business with these people”—he pointed to the delivery truck—"from now on has sealed their doom.”

I clambered over the fence and jogged across the lot to the van’s open back door. The shadowy form of a large creature too distressed by its surroundings to show itself wavered amid the wash of light behind the silver-and-iron twined bars of its cage, which was nearly as tall as I was. It was either a smaller higher shadowkind being than my current companions or simply a very potent lesser shadowkind. Neither deserved the treatment it had gotten.

With a few hacks of my scorch-knife, the supernaturally enhanced titanium blade sizzling with heat, I carved out the lock. The second I threw open the cage’s door, the shadowkind creature flung itself past me. It bolted off into the night without so much as a thank you. I guessed I couldn’t blame it.

“Good,” Snap murmured, coming up behind me. He set a gentle hand on my arm and nuzzled the back of my head in a way that sent a flutter through my abdomen that was totally inappropriate to the situation.

The others were standing around our two captives. Omen rubbed his hands together. “Get their gear off, and we’ll see how much we can drag out of these miscreants tonight.”