Page 2 of Hexbound

Bishop's gaze flattened.

"Didn't you notice me?" Her smile was positively wicked. "And here I thought you had eyes in the back of your head."

Every muscle in his gut tightened and he took the time to reexamine her. He was very, very good at what he did. The fact that he hadn't noticed the surveillance made him wonder if she was better.

They faced each other on light feet, their bodies tense with implied movement. Those slim hips were encased in a pair of trousers that were positively indecent, but she looked lean and strong, and she moved with a kind of supple grace he'd rarely seen before.

"Who are you?"

"Madame Noir."

"Should that mean something to me?" he replied, and from the flattening of her eyes, it should have. Or she'd have liked it to. "I call myself a reclamation agent," she said, circling the desk that stood between them, keeping pace with him.

"A thief, then."

"One does what one must," she replied, casting a gaze across the room, then sneering. "We aren't all born with a silver spoon in our mouths. Some of us have to get our blunt elsewhere."

If she only knew....

He'd earned this house through his service in the East Indias, and then taken the bounties that passed down from the Prime. Silent assassinations to keep him in pocket. Blood money. Execution warrants when sorcerers went rogue. Sometimes he sold some of the magical trinkets he created when he couldn't sleep, but he was a far cry away from having deep pockets.

"How did you hear about the Chalice?" he asked.

Another intriguing smile. "I have friends in low places, you could say."

Its whereabouts shouldn't be common knowledge. He'd only received it a month ago, when its previous owner had been forced to give it to him to protect it. Morgana Devereaux, the Prime's ex-wife, had been collecting the three Relics Infernal; the only things that could control a demon. She'd blackmailed her way to possession of the Blade, and the Wand had gone missing sometime earlier, suspected to be in her hands, which left only the Chalice. Without it, she was powerless. With it, she'd own a demon, the only thing potentially capable of matching the Prime's power.

Morgana was also the only person who might have any idea of who had the Chalice.

Which made the thief's appearance doubly suspicious.

"Are you working for Morgana?" he demanded bluntly, and this time his voice held the edge of a threat to it. Morgana wanted to destroy the Prime—his father. Bishop would do anything to get his hands on her first.

"Who?" she arched a brow in disdain. "My employer is none of your business."

So shewasworking for someone else. "I think you're wrong about that. I'm very interested in learning who you're working for."

Bishop launched himself forward to grab her, and—

The sound of a distant thunderclap echoed right near his ear. His arms clapped shut around nothing but air.

She'd vanished.

A creak alerted him. Bishop swung around and there was his thief, leaning against the doorframe, examining her nails. "Well, it's been lovely making your acquaintance," she said, giving him a mocking finger wave. The handle of the Chalice swirled negligently around one finger. "But I really must be going. People to see. Relics to sell. Toodle-oo."

And then she was gone.

She'd... teleported. That was a rare talent, and he couldn't remember ever meeting anyone who'd owned that ability.

But the Chalice. Hell. This was a disaster. Bishop scrambled after the thief as she hurtled down the staircase. She was fast, streaking ahead every three or four steps, every time he got close enough to almost reach out and touch her.

Either she was taunting him, or she was limited in how far she could teleport.

They hit the main staircase and his thief launched a hip onto the bannister and rode it to the ground. Bishop thundered after her, his heart hammering.

"Stop!" Bishop threw himself forward as he hit the ground floor, his body slamming into hers hard. They both went down, a mess of arms and legs, and Bishop took a knee to his thigh that almost—almost—unmanned him. No time to think of it though. He grunted and flipped her over the top of him, sending her sprawling onto the hall runner, taking most of it in a slide across the black marble.

Then he was up. And so was she.