“The file says she’s a class two.”

He leaned hard on his desk, frustration eating at him. A Ghost Whisperer, even a powerful one, didn’t have enough tools for something like this. Their skillset as a whole was lackluster. Mostly worthless.

“She is dressed well,” Flara went on, “but she doesn’t wear the clothes like she was born to them. She’s pretty—she’s probably someone’s plaything.”

He fisted his hand. His staff had been incredibly incompetent of late. He was starting to lose his patience. If it got out that someone had killed two people under his protection without him having a clue how, or even why, it would undermine his position in the magical hierarchy. Add in his wimpish son, who had the power, but not the blood, of a Demigod, and he’d be subject to ridicule.

Ridicule was unacceptable at any time, more so considering what he was planning.

“Follow the Necromancer,” he ground out. “Find out where she goes—who she speaks to. Whoever put this together is higher level, but the fastest way to find that person is to lean heavily on the staff.”

“Yes, sir,” Flara said, her purr getting under his skin.

“And come here when you’re finished. I have a need for you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a breathy whisper.

He tapped his phone off and tossed it across the desk. He’d ride her hard tonight. Hell, maybe he’d just break her and toss her aside. He needed to relieve his frustrations.

His mind turned back to that Necromancer. What other lead did he have? She was the only logical choice, especially since she clearly wasn’t trying to fit into his magical society. Only crooks and derelicts hung out in the dual-society zone. She had secrets.

And after he got her in front of his highly experienced torturer, he’d pry out each of those secrets until he found one he could use.

5

Alexis

“The most important thing is not to freak out,” Bria said, finishing off her fourth Jack and Coke. She’d been shotgunning them in anticipation of being followed. The woman had no sense of self-preservation. “The second most important thing is not to let her know we’re on to her. Which might be a little difficult, since your Green Isles friend over there has been staring the shit out of her face.”

“Good, yeah, get nice and drunk before we have to fight for our lives. Great call.” I wiped a sheen of perspiration off my forehead.

I took a deep breath as the woman with the yellow shirt settled on her bar stool. She’d just come back from having a smoke, and she had the pristine soft pack and a box of matches to prove it.

Mick huffed and took a sip of his whiskey. “They sell lighters right there on the counter when you’re buying the pack of smokes,” he muttered. “Buy the fuckin’ lighter, girl.”

Yes. I’d had the same thought. Say a smoker lost their lighter—they’d probably have a few matchbooks swiped from random establishments. They wouldn’t carry around a small box of camping matches from the grocery store. How weird was that?

“She must’ve just checked in with her boss,” Bria said, reading my mind.

I chewed my lip nervously. “Who do you think her boss is?”

“If we’re lucky?” Bria picked up her empty glass, frowned at it, and set it back down. “Some thug-nobody who thinks I stole his grandma’s carcass.”

“Why would someone think—”

“Been there, done that,” Bria interrupted. “I mean, the lady was way across the Line. What did she need with her body? I have no idea what he’d be so worked up about.”

Mick laughed, his body shaking with each loud “Ha!” He slapped the bar before picking up his whiskey. “To your granny’s unneeded corpse.” He took a gulp.

Bria hooked a thumb Mick’s way. “That guy gets it.”

“Okay…so if it isn’t a thug-nobody who’s rightly pissed that you stole his nana’s dead body, then what?” I pushed wisps of hair out of my face. “Who do you think sent her?”

Bria frowned at me, silently calling me an idiot. “Why, Valens, of course. Zorn figured I’d be the first target. Who else would he suspect?”

“Kieran, for a start,” I whispered.

“Well yes, him, but for some reason, Valens hasn’t latched on to Kieran’s rock-solid motive. I haven’t a clue why, because—”

“Here’s the thing about drink,” Mick began as the bar door swung open. “You get louder the more you drink. Drink enough, and you roar your business down the bar.”

Bria ticked a finger at him, tapping the air. “Noted, Senator. Good looking out.”

A man walked in, his dark brown hair cut short and his deep-set eyes cloaked in long black lashes. He scanned the bar quickly, and I groaned and sank in my seat.

“Hello, sir,” Bria said softly as she eyed the newcomer. She sat up a little straighter.

“Miserable coont,” Mick grumbled.

“Of all the nights for Miles to drop by,” I muttered.

Miles spied me and his eyes sparkled in recognition. He started our way.

“Just once would he not come over to gloat?” I said quietly. “I’ve got enough problems.”

“He’s not coming to gloat,” Bria whispered out of the side of her mouth. “He’s still into you.”

“No, he isn’t. You’ll see,” I said in annoyance.

He stopped next to Bria, leaning against an older gentleman who’d barely moved all night. Hell, he probably hadn’t moved for decades.

“Alexis, great seeing you. I haven’t seen you in a while,” Miles said, then glanced down at his exposed forearms. Goosebumps covered his skin. He no doubt felt the spirit he was crowding. “What have you been up to?”

A shit-eating grin lifted Bria’s cheeks. “Hey, Miles,” she said, sparing a glance for the woman across the bar, who hadn’t so much as taken out her phone to pass the time. She stared down at her hands, clearly listening in. Someone hadn’t paid attention at spy school. “How’s it going? Remember me?”

Miles frowned, taking in Bria. His gaze flicked to the chain dog collar around her neck, her spike bracelet, and then her Led Zeppelin T-shirt. When he shifted, it was slightly away.

“Uhhm…” he faltered.

She put her hand to her chest. “Bria. Remember? We went out for a slice a while back, then went back to your place.” She lowered her volume and leaned closer to him. He leaned back. “The fuzzy pink handcuffs and the nipple clamps, remember?” She chuckled softly. “That was a wild time. I wasn’t sure about the strap on, but you seemed to like it. You still into all that?”

His face paled and his jaw went slack. He stared at her with wide eyes and shook his head quickly. “Wasn’t me,” he said, knocked firmly off of his high horse.

Despite the situation with the spy, I couldn’t help a grin.

“Oh no?” Bria feigned confusion and blinked down at her empty glass. “You sure? I could’ve sworn I took you to task with a bullwhip. The dirty sock gag was weird, but your scream was so high-pitched that I didn’t mind muffling it. That wasn’t you?”

“Anyway, Miles, we were just leaving,” I said, pushing Bria’s empty glass to the edge of the bar.

The haughty expression I knew so well crossed his expression. He noticed my clothes. “Trying to move up in the world, Alexis?” His gaze darted to my drink, then the bare bar surface in front of it. It was a cash-only bar, and everyone usually left their pile of money within easy reach for Liam. The fact that I didn’t have any cash out meant I’d used Miles’s generosity. Again.

For the very first time, his triumphant smile annoyed me.

“Found someone who will dress you up, but he won’t give you a little spending money, huh?” He tsked, leaning his elbow against the bar, settling in. “Pity.”

Suddenly, this was all very, very irritating. It rankled, even. I wasn’t poor anymore. I wasn’t a nobody. Sure, I didn’t really know how to use my magic, but at least I had some. Kieran might’ve gifted me the clothes (sorta), but I worked my ass off for my paycheck. I’d freed his mother’s ghost, for cripes’ sake, and dozens of others. I trained constantly. I confronted my fears. I’d even forced the world’s most controlled Berserker to lose control, and then made him cry uncle.

I was no longer the muck layering the crack between the societies. I was a training fighter, ready to do my part and topple the magical dictator of San Francisco. I deserved a helluva lot more than this dickface clown talking down to me.

I dug my hand into my expensive handbag and pulled out my cheap wallet. “Liam, what’s the tab? I’ll take care of it now. We’re leaving.”

Liam started, and Miles huffed in condescension. I nearly held my breath, praying Liam wouldn’t remind me of our earlier conversation. A moment later, thank all that was holy, Liam pushed forward and headed toward the till where he’d written down our drink orders.

“It’s fine,” Miles said smugly. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, Alexis. I know the score.”

Anger burned through me, urging me to defend myself, but I didn’t want to attract attention from the woman across the bar. Bria cut out the need.

“Hog-tied.” She snapped. “It was definitely you, Miles. Remember? You asked to be hog-tied and pegged? I didn’t know what ‘pegged’ meant at the time, but then you explained about the strap on.” She laughed. “My eyes were opened that night, I’ll tell you that much. What a lunatic.”

“Jay-sus,” Mick muttered.

“Too much for me, though.” Bria pushed away from the bar and swung her legs off of the stool. “Too much.”

“Twenty,” Liam said, starting over.

Miles stood there, frozen and red-faced, staring incredulously at Bria.

Chuckling, I took out some bills. That amount was much too low for all Bria had drunk, but I wasn’t going to stand around and argue. Maybe Liam enjoyed seeing his boss taken down a peg.