Kidnapped By Dark Fae

4

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 f**k-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 f**k 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.