Page 2 of Hunted By Darkness (The Dark Soul Collector #2)

Lucky for us, Lev was an incredible artist. He captured important details in his sketchbook. Lev’s art was disguised with a special ink only visible with his magic. Meaning, no one else could see it if the sketchbook were ever stolen.

In the vision I had after Silas managed to get his hands on one of Tobas’s favorite watches, a face played over and over. The mercenary who killed Tobas. A face Silas immediately recognized. It was what brought us to this pub.

We’d caught a lucky break. Silas knew where this particular brand of asshole came to let off steam.

The complication? Speaking to the soul required I get closer.

Detaching the vengeful spirit from the mercenary was going to set off alarms if I wasn’t careful.

I’d need to touch the brute to collect Tobas’s soul, and that’d require all three of us.

Lev was in the back corner of the pub, his moss-green eyes carefully scanning the area. His blue hair was messy but styled that way. He’d leaned back in his seat, the ever-casual patron, but everything about my best friend was on high alert.

Silas wasn’t far. He’d stayed outside to do the usual perimeter sweep. Probably to make a few of the mercenaries that frequented the area cry. Turns out, his mere presence made the regulars uncomfortable, and it kept the focus on what he was doing instead of me.

One thing was for sure, the dead were rampant here.

And they were talking. Their whispers droned on, begging me to listen, desperate for my help, but I couldn’t risk exposing myself or weakening my abilities by helping them cross over.

This was our best chance at finding where Rilas was hiding and what the evil asshole was doing in the shadows.

We’d only get one shot at this.

After Rilas failed to collect my grandmother’s soul and realized I could steal them back, he’d disappeared to gather greater power and minions.

Well, probably. It’d been half a year since we’d attacked the Dark Fae Society.

The Council’s deaths hadn’t destroyed them, but without their leadership, it’d take time to rebuild their power and become a problem again.

With the bounty lifted the minute their crownless queen died, I was a free woman.

Sort of.

Freedom didn’t mean much when a demon was out to destroy the world and you might be the only person capable of stopping him.

I turned in time for the face I’d seen in my visions to manifest right in front of me.

A scar bisected his face, dragging one eyelid down halfway and cutting a deep depression in his cheek on the way to his jaw.

One eye was a foggy white and the other was an abyss black.

His sharp glare identified him before anything else.

Greggory Black. Mercenary for hire. Light Fae gone dark. Raging alcoholic. The only thing he liked more than blood and whiskey was women. Silas’s words, not mine. Seemed Silas and Salvator finally agreed on something—they weren’t fans of this notorious killer.

The bartender nodded at him and then pointed to an empty table at the back.

Black waved a greeting and headed over to it without bothering to look around.

His shoulders were slumped, his posture withered.

I got the distinct impression he needed sleep but chose to drink instead.

I’d let him settle in a bit before heading over.

The bartender had barely poured my next shot when a familiar sheen of silver appeared through the door leading out to the busy street.

This area was teeming with bad deeds, so it made sense mercenaries felt free to wander here.

The oversized newcomer dipped his head, a little too close to the top of the doorway. He was all height and brawn and swagger as he strolled through. Golden eyes caught mine before the brute ambled over to where I sat—confident, smirking, and completely rogue.

Again.

“Here we fucking go,” I heard Salvator growl.

Leaning across the bar with a predatory grin sure to get him a knee, the shameless asshole winked at me. “What’s a darling thing like you doing in a dank and dangerous pub like this? Waiting to be rescued?”

The entire pub quieted, perceptive patrons homed in on the giant flirt and me.

“Just trying to enjoy my drink,” I said, sipping my whiskey.

There was that devilish twinkle I knew so well. My mercenary was about to say something stupid, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Oh, love, it’d be my pleasure to give a pretty thing like you something else to enjoy with that lush mouth of yours.”

“Didn’t see that one coming,” Salvator huffed sarcastically.

“And the innuendos, they just keep coming,” Ryker cackled in that wolfish way of his.

Tometi didn’t speak, but I sensed his growing confusion. Poor bear didn’t get any of it.

I cocked my head to the side, removed my dagger, and stabbed it right next to his arm. “Fuck off, asshole.”

His shit-eating grin broadened as I yanked the blade free and left him at the bar. Without waiting, I made my way over to Black. His unsettling gaze was already on me when I stood in front of his table.

“Black, was it?”

His eyebrow lifted in question. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“A paying customer,” I retorted.

Silence stretched between us before he motioned for me to sit. “You’re in luck, doll. I just finished my last job. Buy me a drink and we’ll talk.”