Excerpt: Obsidian

Chapter 1

Daisy launched herself at the enemy before he could prepare. She was a non-magical Chester fighting a huge magical man twice her age and size; fighting fair was just irresponsible.

The business end of her knife pierced his stomach. He grunted and reached for her, ignoring the painful wound. She was already moving. To stay still in this situation was to be overpowered and die.

Dodging his reaching arms, she took the hilt of the dagger in both hands and slammed the blade into his body. It squelched as it came back out, and then she jammed it in again, aiming for a kidney and a quick death. Her aim on this part of the body was terrible—she knew she’d miss—but it would hurt like hell, and if he knew what she was going for, it would freak him out.

Welcome to being mind-fucked, my friend.

A fierce snarl nearly pulled her focus. Her brother, Mordecai, was engaging his guy just down the beach. Sand flew into the air. She couldn’t watch, though. One slip and she’d be toast—the reason Mordecai hadn’t wanted her in this fight in the first place. She’d be damned if she’d die and give him a complex.

“Stupid bitch,” her big-eared enemy wheezed.

Big ears…

Maybe she’d cut one of those off, just for shits and giggles.

Ducking behind him, she bent and stuck her knife in his inner thigh, really close to his nut sack. If the kidneys didn’t freak him out, this would.

His high-pitched scream made her smile. She jumped, slammed her blade into the top of his shoulder, and climbed him like a tree. He spun while reaching around, trying to throw her off. But this was why she’d embedded the knife—as a handle.

He spun the other way, slowing a little. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Working faster than she ever had in training, she scrambled up to his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his head, clutched the knife, and spun her upper body down and to the side, ripping her legs with her. Gravity helped her to the ground. Before she hit, she pushed her arms wide so the knife didn’t end up in her middle.

The impact cracked something and knocked the air out of her. Fuuuck-ing ouch! Her execution of that move needed work.

Struggling for breath, she clambered up. To give in to the pain was to give in to death—or so Zorn always said. Right now, she believed it.

She barely caught the sight of a black animal rolling across the white sands, leaving a bright red trail in its wake. A panther, struggling for life. Mordecai in wolf form was on it a moment later, his snarl sending a jolt of uncontrolled, primal fear through Daisy’s middle. That was new. She’d never heard that note in his growl during training.

Then again, she’d never felt this sort of unbridled intensity during training, either. This fucking thrill of adrenaline. It was a high unlike anything. A calling, maybe. Good thing she’d ended up in the magical world, where people thought this mentality was somewhat normal. Otherwise, she’d be ushered into a jail cell.

With Mordecai still busy, she took two side steps, spun, and attacked, dagger ready. The enemy hadn’t gotten up yet, so she pounced on his back and dug the knife between his shoulder blades.

She yanked it free and bounced off, waiting for his movements to determine where to strike next.

He didn’t so much as twitch.

A howl of pain grabbed her attention. Mordecai ripped across the panther’s belly with his claws before going for the jugular. The panther struggled feebly, beaten.

All Daisy had to do was stall before Mordecai handled the other half of her guy. Well…more like a quarter at this point. That was the deal: he’d said he could handle one and a half of these guys—older and more experienced shifters looking to pick a fight. They weren’t as dominant as her sixteen-year-old brother, though! Mordecai had wanted to do the responsible older brother thing and stand down for Daisy’s sake, but fuck that! This was an ego boost for him—a coming-of-age moment that Mordecai needed. That he was overdue. He was too humble to seek it out himself, and so she was happy to help serve it up for him. He deserved the win!

The man still lay prone, unmoving.

Worry crept through her. She really hoped he was playing dead to surprise her.

Except…shifters didn’t play dead. They were like the god Zeus in that way. Their egos couldn’t handle standing down.

Zorn’s voice sounded in her head: One must never be greedy for a kill.

That didn’t really apply. She was trying to keep the guy alive. The guy, and herself.

She inched closer as a more useful Zorn quote trickled into her mind: One must never let down one’s guard, even when the enemy is on the very brink of death.

Well, yeah, obviously.

She darted in and pierced him in the shoulder, good and deep. That strike would hurt like hell. Even the most stubborn person would react. Nothing.

“Shit,” she whispered, kicking one of his arms out of the way. It was heavy and lifeless. “Oh shit. Mordie…I think I fucked up.”

This time something entirely different caused the rush of adrenaline.

After killing, be ready for remorse. Be thankful if it doesn’t come.

But it wasn’t remorse fluttering in her stomach. She’d killed once before. She knew the feelings that would come. The nothingness and knowing that in this life, it was kill or be killed. There was no room for emotions when surviving.

No, the fluttering was the fear that her mother figure, Lexi, would find out about this and raise hell that Daisy had put herself in danger and that Mordecai had let her.

“Oh shit. Mordie…” she said as he padded over, leaving the panther on its side, its bloody, glistening body rising and falling as it struggled to breathe. “Is that one going to live?” She pointed at the panther.

Mordecai sniffed the man’s face before his head came up, his intelligent hazel eyes meeting hers. She knew the situation without having to ask. The crack she’d heard when executing the move hadn’t been her back during the bad landing. It must’ve been this guy’s neck.

She’d accidentally killed him.

Fuuuuck.

Her stomach started to roll. She would get in so much trouble for this. Lexi would kill them for fighting big guys twice their age. Kill Daisy for fighting at all when she wouldn’t take Demigod Kieran’s offer of blood magic, something that would give her speed and strength and quick healing. It would also tether her to him forever. That guy’s dad had gone crazy, and they’d all nearly died stopping him. If Kieran followed in his family’s footsteps and tried to trap Lexi, Daisy needed to get them out of there. She couldn’t have the permanent connection of blood magic with a guy like him. He was levelheaded now, sure, but Demigods weren’t to be trusted. Which Lexi understood…to a point. She would not be so understanding if she found out about this minor debacle.

The day swam before her. The sun bleached the color of the crystalline ocean, the white sands.

“Zorn will help us get rid of it,” she said in a rush. “He won’t tell anyone. He’s really good at keeping my secrets. Should I go get him?”

Fuck, she hoped that was true. They’d only been training for a year or so, and he was a buttoned-up sort of guy. She didn’t know him half as well as that claim implied.

A strange feeling rolled over her—a humming sort of vibration that sang along her nerve endings, both soothing and ominous. A pleasurable tingle ran down her spine like ice-coated fingertips dancing along her skin, equally chilling and diverting. It was a familiar feeling, one she’d grown accustomed to. One she’d committed to memory, relishing in it, delighting in its terrifying pleasure.

A presence had joined them. The presence. Beautiful and wicked. Exciting…but dangerous. Death incarnate.

It called to her. Begged her to look at it. To notice.

She’d felt the same presence yesterday before the courtyard battle in the convention building at the Demigod Summit, a huge meeting for all the top magical people in the world. It had stood just off to the side, noticed by absolutely no one, a spectral brilliance that not even Zorn, a Jinn, could manifest on his best day. But they had the same roots, at least partially—of that she was certain. This was a fae.

For a moment—a brief, mind-spinning moment—a pair of vivid green eyes flared into existence. The face of a boy a few years older than her—she was just fifteen—stood close by, his body sparkling and shining within its glamor. His severe cheekbones would break a fist crashing against them, and the soft cleft in his chin pleasantly contrasted the strong jaw. His gaze was like a brand upon her skin, awakening something she didn’t want to set loose, sparking something primal and setting it ablaze. His rugged, almost cruel handsomeness was nothing compared to the sparkle of deviousness in his eyes.

Her heart beat too fast. She’d never felt this feverish without being sick. Never felt this terrified, but she wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, wishing a body would manifest, wanting him to speak.

In another moment, everything vanished. The face, the presence, everything. Magic too incredible and too potent to track or maybe even acknowledge blinked out.

“What was—what…” Mordecai, having changed into his human form, took two quick steps forward, shock on his face. He looked at the beach.

The bodies were gone. Both of them. The blood, the messed-with sand—all of it. It was as though the skirmish hadn’t happened and Daisy hadn’t killed someone five feet from where she stood.

She opened her mouth to explain—

Shh, little dove. The fae’s voice was strangely familiar in her mind. Deliciously familiar. It must remain our secret, or it will be your group that I must silence. See you soon…

Daisy gasped and jerked awake. The dream—a memory from four years ago but still so vivid—drifted away. The feeling of that fae’s presence remained, though, left behind like a landmine. The image of his face, those eyes, the feeling that’d erupted in her…

She shook herself and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She hadn’t told a soul about him…and he’d still done her dirty. Two days after she saw his face on that beach, he’d shown up amongst her crew—her family—and set loose an unspeakable magic that had nearly wiped them all out.

Served her right, she supposed. Only a fucking moron messed with fae. She should’ve known he’d fuck her over. It had been stupid to even be curious. Dumb to constantly think of those eyes and their devilish sparkle. His presence—

She flung her covers away and sat up, scrubbing the images from her mind. Four years later and she still had dreams. Still had moments when his memory—the unspeakable feelings of his memory—drifted into her mind and took root. It wasn’t daydreaming when the subject was a human’s nightmare. It was just so damn pleasurable, though. She couldn’t seem to forget it.

After dressing, she headed downstairs. Mordecai sat on a stool at the island, hunched over his phone.

“You’re here again, I see,” she said, opening the fridge and peering in. If she waited long enough, maybe breakfast would make itself and fall into her hands. “Didn’t want to stay at the new lady-love’s house last night?”

He didn’t answer. He’d never been very open about his love life, but he’d been gone for a few nights about a week ago, with only a few grunts for an explanation. Clearly he was getting some action with his new lady of choice.

A pair of green eyes flashed through her mind, accompanied by a flare of heat.

She shook herself out of it. Those dreams were incredibly disruptive. She wished she’d stop having them. Hell, after four years, she should’ve stopped having them. She needed to find a lobotomist.

“What time is training later, do you know?” she asked, pulling out some grapes.

His silence drew her focus. When it came to training, which directly related to her safety, he wasn’t the silent-treatment type. Even if he was mad at her, he usually answered.

Currently, he had no reason to be mad at her. Not yet. Not until later, when he got a taste of her newest booby trap. It was a fun little game she liked to play, and he hated to be part of. He’d then try to pound her during training. Sibling rivalry. They might not be blood, but they’d been raised in really hard times and for long enough to act like it.

Mordecai didn’t look up, bowed over his phone. His black, tightly curled hair was mussed in spots and his dark skin was dry and flaky. He wasn’t taking care of himself like he usually did. At twenty, he was something of a (very sweet and respectful) lady-killer. The girls thought him handsome and a gentleman, not to mention rich and very well connected. He could essentially get anyone he wanted, even with this sad-sack disposition. He went to great lengths to live up to the family name, elevated to the world of Demigods even though their roots were as humble as a gutter rat’s. This situation with him was…unusual. Worrying, even.

Frowning, she closed the fridge door and wandered closer, stopping beside his stool. She popped a grape into her mouth as she kicked the stool leg.

“What’s your problem?” she asked. Soft light filtered through the kitchen windows in the residence they mostly called home. They could multiply their old house four times and it still wouldn’t be as big as this one. Neither of them had ever taken their turn in fortune for granted.

He didn’t react, continuing to doomscroll on his phone.

“Hey.” She kicked the chair harder this time.

“Would you stop?” He cast her an irritated glance. Dark circles lined his red-rimmed hazel eyes.

Not taking care of himself and not sleeping very well. Only danger to their family or girl trouble usually created this. Given she would’ve been apprised of any danger, it was clearly the latter.

“What’d she do?” Daisy demanded, yanking at his shoulder to get him to turn and face her. “Tell me.”

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

“What’s fine?” Jack asked as he sauntered into the kitchen holding a brown grocery bag with something green sticking out the top. He was one of about a dozen people she thought of as uncles, brothers, nieces, a mother figure, or a stepdad type. None of them were blood. She’d been abandoned by blood when she was small and then shuffled around the Chester “care” system, the social services for magic-less orphans. Lexi had found her in the dual-society zone, the crack between the magical and non-magical societies where people struggled to coexist in order to escape their respective governments or law enforcement agencies. She’d been starving and half dead, ready to do unspeakable things for a meal, just to stay away from those horrible and abusive care homes.

Lexi had been her miracle, and Mordecai with her. It hadn’t mattered that Lexi’s house was beyond tiny, or that they lived in poverty, or that they had to scrape and steal just to eat. Lexi and Mordecai’s kindness, their love, had felt like heaven.

So when Lexi had gotten into trouble and needed to move into the magical zone so a Demigod of Poseidon, who was at the peak in power of their magical world, could protect her, Daisy hadn’t balked. She’d marched right into the fire alongside her family, ignoring the fact she was the only non-magical person allowed here. This was where she belonged, regardless of blood. Regardless of magic. It was where she’d stay, the dangers inherent in being a magic-less “Chester” in this brutal world be damned.

Besides, when Lexi had then gotten a magical upgrade, Daisy had finally taken the blood magic. Lexi’s blood magic. Being tethered to Lexi was a comfort, and the benefits from the magic were sensational. She was faster now. Stronger. Able to heal much more quickly. She wasn’t nearly as breakable. It didn’t close the gap between her and real magical people, but it lessened the danger just a touch. Enough to keep Lexi from forcing her to live with people of “her kind.”

Because of that Demigod, now Lexi’s fiancé, their family unit had grown. First with Kieran’s Six, the guys who’d pledged a blood oath to protect their Demigod, and then Bria and Dylan, Amber and Jerry—their crew. The people she’d fight beside until her dying breath.

Daisy ignored Jack while shoving Mordie this time. “What’d she do?”

“Leave it alone, okay? It’s none of your business,” Mordecai said a little too loudly, his face creasing in misery.

“Oh, his woman?” Jack lifted his dark brows as he set the grocery bag on the island. His bronzed arm, thick with muscle, stretched his shirt as he lifted out a carton of milk.

“Whose woman?” Donovan walked in next, lean and blond and very good-looking. All of Kieran’s original Six were.

Zorn entered right behind, dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks. His wavy brown hair had been freshly cut, and his gray eyes were their usual sort of intense and piercing. His gaze swept the room, taking stock of the surroundings and assessing for any danger. He did it constantly and had taught her to do it, too. Very little escaped his notice.

“Rumple Sad-Sack here has girl problems, it seems.” Daisy put a hand on the edge of the counter so she could lean over Mordecai to see his face. He’d gone back to scrolling through his phone. “Hey. What happened? I can help.”

“Do not let her help.” Donovan smiled as he reached into a cabinet and grabbed a frying pan. Oh good, at least they planned to make breakfast.

“Why?” Daisy’s brows lowered. “What do you know?”

It was Jack who answered. “We know it doesn’t matter what that girl did. You’d slit her throat for it if Mordecai let you.”

Jerry, whom the magical world referred to as “the Giant,” walked into the kitchen behind the rest. The nickname wasn’t because of his size, though he topped out at six-foot-six with a large breadth of shoulder. It was because of his abilities with rock. He could literally move a mountain, bit by bit.

He sat at the kitchen table as Mordecai made a disgruntled sound and pushed to standing. Apparently the whole crew would be eating at this residence, taking a break from ruling Magical San Francisco for the day.

“It’s fine,” Mordecai said testily. He gave Daisy a hard look. “It’s none of your business. Just leave it.”

She put her hands on her hips as she watched him walk from the room.

“I don’t blame him,” Jerry said in his deep baritone, resting his forearms on the table. “What that lady did would crush any man’s ego.”

Daisy turned toward Jerry slowly.

“You weren’t supposed to say anything, Jerry,” Jack said, emphasizing his name. It was a joking sort of mocking they’d been doing since they met the giant a handful of years before. Jerry, alone and lonely on his solitary mountain, had been an instant addition to their crew, belonging with the rest of the misfits.

“Yeah, Jerry,” Donovan intoned, chuckling. “We aren’t supposed to let the angry little gremlin know the situation for fear of her retaliation. Mordecai and his broken heart said so.”

Jerry’s eyebrows slowly lifted. “Oops,” he said unapologetically.

He clearly wanted revenge for Mordecai, and the others knew she would get it for him. No one fucked with her family and got away with it.

“Spill, Giant,” Daisy demanded as Zorn slipped into another seat at the table. “Tell me everything.”

Chapter 2

Cold rage slithered within Daisy as she moved through the darkness. Zorn drifted just behind, down the deserted alleyway. The cobblestones shone in the low light, wet with moisture from the heavy fog. Golden-yellow street lamps glowed with diffused halos. Somewhere a cat screeched before a garbage can rattled and a glass bottle rolled across cement.

With Zorn’s help, it hadn’t taken long to formulate a plan. Half a day only. All the information they needed on her target, Mordecai’s snake of an ex-girlfriend, was right at their fingertips. Daisy even had a picture so she could identify the woman easily. Tonight, slightly more than twenty-four hours later, she would take out the trash.

Near the end of the alleyway, Daisy paused and glanced around. Not a soul in sight.

Respectable people didn’t come to this corner of the dual-society zone. There was nothing but crime and criminals hiding from the law.

Her target was three floors up in the corner apartment. A known criminal’s apartment.

Turned out, Mordecai’s ex-woman dabbled in stolen antiques and collectibles. Her fuck-buddy on the side did, at any rate. Given it was the dual-society zone, this area wasn’t subject to Demigod Kieran and Lexi’s jurisdiction. They weren’t responsible for policing this area, and neither was the non-magical government. These people slipped through the cracks in this world and hoped no one bigger and stronger took notice.

Well. Now someone had. The woman deserved Zorn and Daisy coming after her, and the criminals she hung out with deserved to go dark. Permanently. Given the area, no one would give two shits about it. Kill or be killed. The nature of the game.

Daisy jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence. In a second she’d pulled herself over and landed almost silently on the other side. Zorn was at her side in a moment, making scaling a fence look graceful and easy. Garbage littered the walkway behind the building. She watched where she stepped and ducked under a lit window.

The fire escape barely hung down past the bottom of the second floor. She paused under it and waited. Zorn grabbed her thighs. She squatted and then jumped. He lifted, hoisting her up so she could grab the bottom rung. He guided her back down to a soft landing and access to the higher levels. Easy-peasy.

On the second-floor landing, it was a cinch to then get up to the correct floor and step out onto the wide ledge. With light, confident steps, she made it around the corner of the building. Light spilled onto the ledge from a window up ahead. Just beyond, voices drifted out through an open window.

She slowed and glanced back at Zorn. His piercing eyes shifted down to her. Very little expression showed on his face. She knew very little emotion bubbled under the surface, either. At just over six feet and with a medium build, it was easy to underestimate the absolute beast he became in a fight. He’d imparted that knowledge to her early, starting when she was just fourteen. He’d taken her under his wing when usually he didn’t have time for anyone.

She tensed a little, and he nodded. After five years of training together, fighting together, doing jobs together, and getting into a hairy situation or two, they didn’t need words to communicate. He wasn’t much of a talker, anyway.

He fell back a bit. For the first time, she was taking point on a job. It was her right as Mordecai’s sister and backup. Adrenaline and pride surged through her, along with an antsy feeling, like standing at a starting line, waiting for the pop of the gun.

She took a deep, steadying breath as she pulled a switchblade out of her pocket. The blade snicked as it sprang up. She stopped at the first window and tried it. Unlocked, as expected for a residence this high up and housing the people it did. Derelicts crashed here. They met their employer’s buyers, they partied, and they lounged around. That was the sum total of their existence. Or so it seemed on paper. Mordecai never should’ve gotten involved with people like this. He had a huge heart and he always wanted to help—people like this took advantage of guys like him. Had taken advantage.

Would die for taking advantage.

Daisy didn’t sense any souls in this room, so she lifted the window slowly.

Lexi’s blood magic gift had given her the usual perks—enhanced strength, speed, healing, and the ability to understand any language anywhere. But each Demigod also passed down something relative to their specific type of magic. In the case of Lexi, a Demigod of Hades, she’d passed on the ability to feel and identify souls, the thing Hades snatched as a person died and shed their skin. Or some such thing—she’d never been very interested in how it worked. Ghosts freaked her out.

Thankfully, she could only sense the souls of the living. Unlike Lexi, she wasn’t plagued with feeling or seeing the dead.

She climbed over the pane. A waft of funk assaulted her. She screwed up her nose in disgust. It was like someone had put dirty socks and a wet dog in a bowl and heated it up. Laundry lay strewn across all available surfaces. Soda cans and wrappers littered the ground. She had to watch her step to avoid stepping on anything and alerting the residents of her arrival.

Murmured voices drifted down the hall. She paused at the door to listen. The window stayed open behind her. Zorn stood at it, waiting to make sure the breaking-and-entering portion of their plan went off correctly.

A man was speaking. Another burst out laughing. Finally came the sultry voice of a female. Bingo.

Down the other way, a light glowed from under one of the doors. The bathroom, if she wasn’t mistaken.

A light splash caught her attention. Then the movement of water.

Yes, the bathroom, and someone was relaxing and taking a bath. Hopefully they wouldn’t get the urge to get out just yet. She’d deal with that person later.

She glanced back at Zorn again. He drifted from the window like a phantom, still on the ledge. He’d peer in through the living room window, ready to help if she needed it.

She hoped to fuck she wouldn’t need it. She’d looked up their magic and knew how to quickly combat it—none of them were anything special. But she never knew. Not in the magical world. One wrong move, a bad decision, a mis-thrown knife—and she’d be vulnerable. She could never afford to take any chances.

She slinked through the hallway, her switchblade in her hand. They were such a romantic sort of knife, switchblades. Close and personable and cool as all hell. Definite style points when used for grisly (though righteous) murders.

More laughter.

“When is he supposed to pick it up?” one of the guys asked.

“An hour, give or take,” the other answered, sounding bored. “He doesn’t tend to be punctual.”

“I’ll wait all night,” the woman purred. Daisy gritted her teeth against the rush of anger. “He is…” She made an appreciative sound.

“Is that why you showed up?” the first guy asked.

The other guffawed. “What’s that, Max? You thought she came for you?”

Daisy’s fingers tightened. She edged closer to the corner at the end of the hallway. The room opened up beyond. She could just make out a pair of run-down sneakers. The owner was stretched out on the couch right around this corner. The others were on the other side of the room.

“You were fun, don’t get me wrong,” a woman, probably Ava, told Max, “but I’m kind of over it.”

The other guy guffawed again.

Daisy burst into action. She recognized the two guys from the pictures easily, one near the window and the second belonging to those run-down sneakers. Green light for night-night.

She slapped the light switch and doused the room in darkness. The woman screamed. One of the guys said, “Ohhh whoa ahh.” Very strange reaction.

Moonlight fell over him, but she’d already memorized his location and lined up her body. She pulled a throwing knife from the holster on her thigh and flung it. It lodged in his throat. Perfect shot. No one in this room had a Demigod’s blood magic—except her—or fast healing like a shifter. That dude would bleed out sooner rather than later.

But the blood loss wouldn’t kill him.

Acid spit gurgled out of his mouth and over his chin. It rolled into the wound and seeped in.

He had terrible genetics. Usually acid spit didn’t affect the spitter. Not with this guy. Getting it on his skin was fine, but if it went into his bloodstream, it would kill him. He couldn’t tolerate his own magic, something very unusual for magical people.

The guy on the couch started, his eyes wide. Daisy was on him in a moment, peppering him with knife strikes and quickly ending his flailing.

Low-hanging fruit, these characters. This was beneath her and Zorn in every way. It was good practice for her, though. A nice, easy steppingstone for her first semi-solo job.

She slowed, walking toward the woman. Ava. Very pretty, this lady. A knockout by anyone’s standards. Mordecai had surely stopped thinking the moment she smiled at him.

She wasn’t smiling now.

“I know who you are,” she said, her voice quivering. “What do you want?”

Zorn pushed the window open and climbed in gracefully, nearly invisible despite the moonlight.

Ava let out a surprised sound, hurrying away from him and into the corner.

“Who’s the guy in the tub?” Daisy asked her.

Zorn started moving toward the hallway immediately. He’d make sure the guy in the tub stayed put until they were ready to deal with him or her. They weren’t implicated in all this. Yet.

Ava’s body started to shake and then her voice changed octaves. A wave of sadness washed over Daisy. Ava was a magical mood changer.

Yawn.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely.” Daisy took a step toward the woman.

“He wants to meet the buyer,” Ava said quickly, flinching toward the wall. “He works for Randall. He’s higher up on the chain of command and wants to make sure the buyer feels comfortable.”

The emotion changed to rage.

Daisy laughed. “Really? You want me to show you rage?”

Ava’s face paled. The magical emotion she was pushing switched to depression. Her fear was messing with her control.

“The buyer of what?” Daisy asked, ignoring the changing emotions.

“A-antique. An antique. Don’t come any closer! I’ll tell you everything.”

“Yes, I know.” Daisy stepped forward and yanked Ava around until her face was pushed into the crack of the corner. She ripped the woman’s hands behind her back before sliding the point of her bloody knife against the hollow behind Ava’s ear. She pressed hard enough to break the skin.

“A goblet,” Ava said frantically. “He called it a chalice. I don’t know which one it is. Honest. I’m not on the payroll.”

Daisy leaned into the woman, pressing the blade a little deeper. A thin rivulet of blood traced down the woman’s neck. Her terror rose, her breathing becoming choppier and more panicked.

“You know who I am,” Daisy said in a low voice, “and you certainly know who Zorn is. You must also know who my brother is.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Ava trembled. “I told him I didn’t want to be tied down. I told him! He said he’d be exclusive, but I didn’t.”

“Did you also tell him that you were with him so you could pass information to your boys? To make it easier for them to rob him?”

She froze.

“Yeah. The cheating thing is bullshit, obviously,” Daisy went on, “but you were upfront about that. Fine. Having someone filming you doing it while talking shit about my brother? Not good. That sort of thing gets under my skin. But setting him up to be jumped and robbed?”

The anger nearly dragged Daisy under.

“He’s the type of guy who suffers in silence,” she said with a constricted throat.

The picture Jerry had taken seven days ago flashed through her mind. Mordecai hadn’t been with a woman at all. His whole body had been battered and bloody, his nose broken along with a few of his bones. He’d hidden that from Daisy and stayed at Jerry’s while he healed so she wouldn’t know.

The guys thought it was because Mordecai didn’t want Daisy to claim vengeance on his behalf. That was probably partly true. But she knew Mordecai better than anyone. She knew what made him tick and why he did the things he did. He’d hidden because he was ashamed. He’d allowed himself to be caught off guard, and despite the rock-solid training they both had, they’d taken him down. It didn’t matter that it was eight against one. He knew Daisy always tried to build him up, and he’d hate causing her pain by seeing him torn down. If he hadn’t had the blood magic and the naturally fast healing of a shifter, he would’ve died. That was what had frozen Daisy’s insides. He’d been done dirty and he’d suffered for it. That was inexcusable.

“You have him jumped, you take his shit…” Daisy clenched her jaw as the rage swelled and twisted. “Then you make a sex tape while mocking him for it. He got that yesterday morning, right?”

It had crushed him. He had liked this chick for some fucking reason. He’d been over the moon about her. And she’d gone and shit all over him.

“Who talks shit about another lover while actively banging someone? No one. You were trying to hurt him emotionally after these assholes hurt him physically. What sort of hell spawned you?”

“He’s nothing but an exiled shifter,” Ava said through her teeth. “And you’re nothing but a dirty Chester!” Magical self-loathing swamped Daisy. “It was embarrassing when he sang a Chester’s praises in front of everyone. An angel? Yeah fucking right. He should’ve known better. He got what was coming to him.”

He certainly should’ve known better. Mordie was too lovely to see Daisy for what she really was—the devil with razor-tipped heels. Death walking. That was his error, but this bitch was not the right person to call him on it. Daisy alone had that privilege.

The fake magical emotion couldn’t beat out Daisy’s very real fury.

Her voice was low and intimate. “First of all…” She shallowly jabbed the woman in the thigh with her knife, then in the side. Ava cried out and fell harder into the wall, back to being docile. “He was exiled as a child, right after his parents, the alphas, were murdered. Now he is working with Demigods. He could have a pack if he wanted, but he’s choosing to stick with a very powerful family. He leveled up, you ignorant twat. Second, just so we’re clear about the type of guy you fucked around with, he wanted to walk you home to make sure you got there safe. He didn’t like this lifestyle for you. Is your air freshener actually a flaming dog turd? Because that’s what it smells like. He’s kind and lovely and gentle, but even if you hate that, he’s very good-looking and has a stellar body. Like…what sort of stupid are you? That guy Max is dumpy as shit. Do you actively try to make bad decisions?”

Daisy gave her a few more shallow cuts, numb to the violence but wanting this message to be crystal clear. Fuck with one of her people, and you fucked with her directly. She didn’t have compassion and she didn’t play games. Zorn had taught her well. This chick wouldn’t die, but she’d be laid up for a while. She’d have plenty of time to think about what she’d done. Plenty of time for the fear to take on a life of its own.

“You’re going to send him an apology. Is that clear?” Daisy shook the woman. “You will send him an apology for being human garbage. After that, you will never speak to him again. You will never go around my family again. If you do, for any reason, I will finish this job I started. Get me?” She pressed the blade against the crying woman’s throat.

“Yes,” Ava whispered.

“What?” Daisy prompted.

“Yes!”

Daisy used the woman’s slinky dress to clean off her blade before stepping back.

“Out of curiosity”—she put the knife away—“do you still have the watch or car you took from him?”

Ava sank to the ground in a tapestry of blood and defeat. “I don’t have it. Randall took it and gave us cash. He’s got it. I don’t have it!”

Randall, hmm? Daisy might just look him up. He was the big fish of the operation. Actually, Zorn might want to handle him. She still had to go after the other six turds who had helped these dead guys take down Mordie.

The rage simmered.

Daisy turned her back on Ava, a signal that the woman was no threat. Doing that as a Chester was the gravest of insults to a magical person.

Zorn waited in the darkened hallway, no moonlight reaching this far.

“You left her alive?” he whispered.

“She needs to send an apology to Mordecai. You heard Jerry. He said Mordie feels betrayed. I don’t want him to lose faith in women or people in general. Besides, he’d flip out if I killed her. He’d take responsibility and feel guilty and it would be a whole thing. I don’t have the patience.”

“Careful. Your big heart is showing,” Zorn murmured.

She rolled her eyes at him.

He jerked his head at the closed bathroom door. The light was still on. No splashing came from inside.

“The shades are pulled on the window,” he said. “I couldn’t have a look. He must’ve heard the screaming. He didn’t get up to investigate.”

She hooked a finger over her shoulder. “They were utterly useless. Killed by your own acid? Give me a break. Mr. Bathtub is probably scared.”

“Probably.”

“He’s part of the organization, so he’s fair game, but we don’t know what kind of magic he has.”

“Correct.”

Daisy bit her lip. Zorn stared down at her, no expression. He’d take point if she wanted. He was silently asking if she was up for this.

Nervousness roiled in her belly, but she didn’t back down. This was her life. Sometimes, part of that life was walking into danger blind. With Zorn as backup, she should be able to handle it.

Should being the operative word.

“I’m on it,” she said, not allowing the nervousness to quiver her voice. She headed that way.

Chapter 3

“Right, then.” Daisy pulled a paracord from one of her pockets and checked the placement of her weapons. She’d have to move fast and not get blasted by whatever magic that guy had going. “Let’s see how well you’ve trained me, hmm?”

Zorn’s lips quirked up at the corners, his version of a chuckle. He liked that she was ready to blame her failure on him. He’d always had an odd sense of humor. It was probably why they got along so well.

A dagger was secured to her hip in a sheath. She slipped the switchblade into her pocket and retrieved the dagger. She might need more reach.

The cord dripped down from the other hand. She paused next to the closed door, her hand with the cord now on the handle. She took a deep breath, then another, before she surged into the room.

Steam hung heavy in the air. A man lay in the freestanding tub near the center of the space, a hand gripping each side. His neck was tense, holding up his head nervously. He was probably wondering what was going on in the outer room. Very strange that he wouldn’t get up, get dressed, and either go investigate or climb out the fucking window. There were a lot better options than nakedly waiting for an attacker to find you.

“What the hell do you want?” he growled, but he couldn’t hide the uneasy quiver in his voice.

He released the fingers of one hand from the side of the bathtub. Daisy worried he might mean to do magic.

She rushed him, using all her speed. Her blade bit into his shoulder. His eyes rounded. Deep crimson oozed into the clear water. He thrashed, swinging his hands forward to protect his middle.

She ripped the dagger from his body and tossed it out of the way with one hand while looping the cord around his wrist with the other. He grabbed for her, faster than expected. Ares magic, maybe? Too soon to tell.

She leapt over the rear of the tub and yanked the cord with her. His free hand lost purchase on the slick porcelain, and his body jerked toward her sideways in the water. She ran to the base, dragging the cord with her and getting his arm at the correct angle. She didn’t have the muscle to easily counter this guy. She had to rely on leverage and positioning.

No matter. She was used to it from training with big, powerful guys.

His arm went straight behind him but his legs were bending. He couldn’t get his knees under him or it would be a different kind of fight. A harder kind of fight.

She stepped into the filthy, bloodstained water as she yanked on that cord, keeping the pressure. Her shoes and pants went soggy with the lukewarm water. Her foot fit nicely in the crease of his back, and she stepped with all her body weight, pushing his face into the water. This was a risky move. Any of Kieran’s inner magical crew, her trainers, would ignore the danger of drowning and buck while twisting to throw her off. She was banking on this guy not being as good under pressure.

He continued to thrash. She pulled on his wrist, forcing his elbow to bend. His arm worked up his back. Good news. She grabbed the other, gripping the edge of the bathtub near his head. He finally bucked, his butt coming up and throwing her forward.

Her head crashed against the edge. Fucking ow.

“Piece of shit…” she grumbled, struggling to get back into the right position. She was suddenly rethinking this whole strategy.

He twisted. His captured hand almost pulled free as his other hand pushed under him to lift his body into the air.

“Yes, exactly, that’s what I needed,” she grunted as she pulled up both knees and rammed them into the center of his back.

His body met his hand on the bottom. That elbow bent, and she quickly grabbed it, putting all her effort into wrestling it back with the other.

“You…are not…making this…easy,” she groused as she shoved both hands as far up his back as she could get before wrapping the cord around his wrists and forearms and tying it off. Red bathwater sloshed and spilled over the sides. She still had about ten feet of cord dangling from the knot.

She pushed to standing and grabbed part of it, breathing heavily. The guy started to turn over, having gone without breath for a while now. The only thing on his mind would be getting air.

She set about tying his ankles as he turned, flapping his legs like a merman, since he couldn’t use his arms. Those tied together, she then roped up to his knees until the cord was all used up. That really oughta hold him.

By the time he got a sweet mouthful of air, he realized her switchblade was pressing against his balls.

Zorn glided farther into the room, liquid stealth. He lifted an eyebrow at the water drenching half her clothes.

“Yeah,” she panted tiredly. “That really could’ve gone better. I still don’t even know what kind of magic he has.”

“Wh-what do you want?” The man’s eyes were wild with fear upon seeing Zorn. He always stole the show.

“We have a few questions,” Daisy said, flicking her blade to get his attention.

He flinched, but his eyes didn’t leave Zorn.

Zorn leaned against the wall, content to watch.

“What sort of work does Randall do?” she asked.

“Special antiques, collector’s items, art. H-he acquires hard-to-find pieces that have a specific value to our customers.”

“He steals hard-to-find pieces, you mean.”

The man’s eyes got cagey.

“Where’d you get the chalice for the client coming tonight? And also…” She shifted against the tub, so confused. “Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to take a bath, of all things, when he might show up at any time? You don’t even sleep in this cesspit and you thought you’d take a break out of your workday to soak in the tub? What sort of strange outfit are you people running here?”

“I…I…” His gaze flicked back and forth between Daisy and Zorn. He hadn’t expected this new line of questioning. “I came from working out. I needed to freshen up. The shower doesn’t work.”

Daisy glanced at the stained shower stall in the corner with the dirty, foggy glass and the grime between the tiles.

“Okay, fair enough. About the chalice…” She pushed the blade harder against his balls.

Once again, he only had eyes for Zorn.

“I don’t know much. They don’t tell me much!” The water sloshed as he twisted, struggling against the cord. “All I know is this guy’s outfit wants the crystal chalice. If they can find the crystal chalice, they can get through the Faegate.”

A jolt of adrenaline zipped through Daisy’s body at hearing the term Faegate.

Zorn’s whole body tensed. He straightened slowly. This had just gotten a whole lot more interesting. Or terrifying, depending on how one looked at it.

“What about the Faegate?” Zorn walked toward the tub.

The man licked his lips. “Just that— Hey, look, I’m just a peon. I’m a nobody. I’m here to make sure things go smoothly. They’re offering a lot of money for—”

“What about the Faegate?” Zorn repeated. His rough voice held a warning.

He was not a person from whom anyone wanted a warning.

“The dark fae king… W-well…well…” the man sputtered. “He’s looking to pierce the Faegate or something. To come into the human realm, I mean. To escape the Cerebrals or whatever they are.”

“Celestials,” Zorn said not so patiently.

“Ce-celestials, yeah.” The man’s eyes watered, fear drowning his gaze. “The fae type that rules all the kingdoms and guards the borders or whatever—”

Daisy nodded, motioning for him to move on. “We’re all aware of the setup.”

At least, people now obsessed with the fae were. People like her, ever since that one set loose an unspeakable danger that nearly killed her whole family. Since he started continually showing up in her dreams. Since his memory would not fucking diminish.

She’d been learning all she could about their realm and their kind, but the so-called scholars didn’t know much. Humans who crossed the Faegate—what the fae called the “fringe,” a sort of magical borderlands to keep their species put—didn’t tend to return. If they did, it was because they’d made a deal with one of the kings or queens. A deal that usually went sour—part of the cunning fae’s plans—and resulted in a fae rummaging through the deal maker’s mind and then killing them gruesomely. There’d been a few instances.

Fae weren’t supposed to cross the fringe unless they had a binding contract with a human. That would permit them entry, but only allow them enough time to carry out their business. If they lingered, the guardians of Faerie, the Celestials, would force them home or kill them outright. At least, that was what the books said.

Only a fool got involved with the fae and their meddlesome, malicious gods. Only an absolute moron invited them into one’s life.

This guy was clearly both, and his boss was a dead man walking. Which, whatever. He’d get what was coming to him.

But trying to find magical objects with which to bypass the Faegate? Did he not realize that faerie magic would take root here and twist their reality into something nightmarish? There was a reason the realms needed to be kept separate. All the texts agreed. Hell, even the old gods agreed. They’d made the fringe, after all. They’d created the magically superior “star children” Celestials to guard it. If the fae got through, they’d enslave what they thought of as lesser beings, kill anyone they had no need of, and twist the fabric of reality to suit their needs. The whole place would become unlivable. And for what? A few bucks dealing cups?

She said as much.

“A few bucks?” The man’s loose jowls wobbled with tremors. “Try a couple hundred thousand for each chalice. More if we track down one they really like. The crystal chalice? Over a million.”

“Right but…then what?” Daisy’s fingers tightened on her knife. She really wanted to slice something off to get the point across. “How’s money going to help you? If that king gets through the Faegate, there’s nowhere for you to hide. No other safe realm for you to go to. Not that we know of, anyway. You’ll be as influenced by their magic as anyone else. You’ll see friends turn into creatures. Non-magical humans get a magical upgrade and probably lose their heads with the power and declare war on the magical governments. There’re a million different ways it could all go wrong, and I probably haven’t thought of the worst ones. Money won’t do you any good if you invite that sort of horror into these lands.”

His eyes narrowed, looking at her fully. Stubbornness set his jaw.

“Obviously we’d be protected,” he said indignantly. “Randall isn’t stupid. He—”

“I beg to differ.” Zorn stepped a little closer, and the man visibly quailed. “You’d be the first to fall by the king’s hand.” Zorn’s hard gaze hit Daisy. “Clear out. Find that chalice. I want to see what it is. Leave it in the middle of the living room floor. Once you do, take the fire escape and head back to the car. Wait for me there.”

Shivers rolled down Daisy’s spine. Zorn didn’t usually shoo her away from the job. Not for any reason. When you trained with Zorn, you lived by the sword. She’d seen some gory stuff. Daisy didn’t have a squeamish stomach, and she didn’t have much in the way of morals. She was made for this role, same as Zorn. Same as Amber, their partner in espionage and sometimes assassinations. His asking her to leave meant he planned to send a message to this Randall guy. To get colorful. This was the reason Zorn was greatly feared.

Or maybe he planned to ask for a few more details he didn’t want her hearing. Zorn had fae blood, she was almost positive, and he was very private about his roots. This situation was probably touching very close to home. He might want to find out if he was in danger.

Whatever the reason, she put away her switchblade and collected her dagger. After slipping it into its sheath, she headed for the door. It clicked behind her, and she immediately heard the man start blubbering for his life.

He should’ve thought of that before inviting the fae into this territory. Now they had a potential nightmare on their hands. One that might show up at any time to collect a magical chalice that could ruin the human world as they knew it.

Well, this evening took a horribly unexpected turn… she thought as she reached the living room. Ava was long gone. She likely wouldn’t be back. Not that it mattered. All Daisy cared about was that apology video. And it better be heartfelt! Or at least seem like it, anyway. Mordecai was too good of a person to lose faith in humanity’s overall goodness. That was Daisy’s job, and one she took to with great vigor.

She flicked the switch to bring up the lights and scanned the various rooms. It was in the third bedroom that she found what she was probably looking for. Tables had been set out in rows. Objects of all shapes and sizes adorned the velvet-covered surfaces. Old rings not cute enough to be hot vintage items, old lamps, vases—the usual subjects of the antique world were present. She wasn’t much of a collector. They all looked like junk to her.

“Chalice…” she murmured to herself as she perused the farthest corner. Honestly, she didn’t even know what a chalice was. Like a goblet, apparently. A big cup of some sort…

She glanced at each item. Nothing fit the profile on the first table, so she moved on to the next. Nothing there, either, though she did see a very cool vintage watch that would look stunning with a particular outfit she was thinking of.

“Yoink,” she muttered, grabbing it up. Finders keepers. Last one to steal it wins.

A couple of gems, in bad need of a polish, caught her eye, but nothing too remarkable. Until she got to the far edge of the room.

A strange pulse of energy made her stop. A somewhat flat object lay against the black velvet, three inches long and two wide. The edges were jagged and one end curved up to a flat point. A black sheen covered a core that looked almost green, like it had hidden depths of deep emerald.

When her fingers brushed against the surface, the strange pulse materialized into a pleasant hum. The object looked dirty and bumpy, but the surface felt glass-smooth. She slid her thumb across. The hum intensified, vibrating up her palm. A basil-green light throbbed in the middle, transfixing her.

She pulled it closer, a sheen of sweat covering her brow. “What…” The glow blinked rapidly for a moment before fading away as though it had never been there. She stared, wondering if it would come back and feeling that hum continue to vibrate up her palm. Nothing.

It was magical, though. It must be. Nothing else in the room acted like this. Zorn might know what it was. Regardless, it wasn’t a cup and it wasn’t crystal. It wasn’t what she was looking for.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she murmured, checking to see which pocket might fit it best. None were long enough, though. It would fall out.

She slipped it into her shirt and nestled it into the little holding place in her bra, between her breasts. There was a lot of space to work with. Puberty hadn’t done a whole lot for her in that department. A custom-made bra and here she was, hiding shit in her boobs. Usually it was a weapon, but whatever. Desperate times…

At the end of the last table, she still hadn’t found what she was looking for. As she turned for the door, she noticed the stool peeking out from just behind. It was clearly intended to be missed when walking into the room.

After swinging the door out of the way, she looked down onto a purple velvet pillow holding a thick-walled goblet with a sturdy base.

“Hello, chalice,” she murmured. Clearly the idea was for the buyer to peruse the tables, grab anything of interest, and come back here for the item of the day.

It lay on its side, and the overall color looked almost pewter, with etchings of flowers and leaves on the sides of the cup portion and geometric designs down the stem and around the bottom. The surface was cold to the touch and seemed heavier than it appeared. Areas looked worn, as though this item had long been in use and been somewhat polished to a smudged shine. Nothing else seemed inherently magical, but it might be that the user needed natural magic to unlock it. She didn’t qualify. The blood magic from Lexi didn’t count. At least, that was what she’d been repeatedly told, often accompanied by a sneer from people who hated a Chester being on their side of the magical line.

She secured her new watch around her wrist to use both hands and then bent for the pillow. A scream floated out of the bathroom. This wouldn’t be any fun for Mr. Bathtub. Zorn had a flare for ruthlessness. Hopefully the neighbors weren’t overly curious people…

She put the pillow in the middle of the living room with the chalice on top. Zorn would know not to take it with him. No one needed a fae tracking them down, not for any reason.

Hopefully he was about done.

She glanced at the apartment door but headed for the window. This building had two working cameras. She didn’t need proof floating around of her involvement in Mordecai’s life. He’d be really annoying to live with if he knew she was playing vigilante on his behalf.

Outside on the ledge, she worked her way to the corner. A soul, out of sight, popped up on her radar. Someone was out here with her, on the same ledge. Her scalp tingled in alarm as a hint of nervous anticipation wormed through her.

It was probably a neighbor wanting to see what the commotion was about without actually confronting the person causing it. It was what she would do. The fae client would just use the door. Their glamor would get them past the cameras, if they cared about them at all. Plus, only forty minutes had passed and this buyer was apparently not punctual. She and Zorn should still have time.

Regardless, she didn’t want to meet a new friend unprepared. Even low-powered magic could be fatal if it hit her head-on.

She pulled out a throwing knife. Stab and run. It was always the best practice for a Chester.

She kept walking until she was close enough to the corner for a good shot. The person continued nearer until reaching the turn. There they slowed to navigate going around. After a brief pause, a tall man with impossibly broad shoulders stepped into view.

Her stomach dropped out, and her world exploded in color. Her knees nearly lost their strength, making her wobble toward the wall. A delicious thrum she vividly remembered flowered in her body, competing with shock and surprise and incredibility.

No, not a man. A fae.

Her fae.

Moonlight highlighted his straight, fine features, elegant yet dangerous. Regal death. Dark, windswept hair draped the sides of his face before curling just under his jaw. In the back it was longer still, dusting his neckline. His dress shirt was stretched tight across his chest, showing defined pecs, but fell loose at his trim waist before tucking into black trousers.

His casual dress sneakers didn’t make a sound against the concrete and were an interesting choice for scaling buildings and breaking and entering. A very fashionable choice that she really wanted to adopt, damn him.

His eyes were lost to the darkness, but she knew their color all the same: vivid green leading into a burnished gold ring around the iris. Intimately expressive. Absolutely gorgeous, like him. Like he’d been the first time she’d seen him. And the second, when he set loose a chain of events that had nearly killed them all.

Words slithered through her mind like a lover’s caress.

Hello, little dove. Did you miss me?

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