I really shouldn’t pick on the poor guy, but he was a thorn in my side, always helping those infuriating shifters track my whereabouts. Half the time they showed up to dog my footsteps, no pun intended, watching my movements for some clue as to what my magic was. What I was, basically. My scent told them something was up with me, but they couldn’t find a reason to haul me into the Realm, the magical world basically run by the elves, to question me. That meant they skulked around, trying to catch me doing something wrong. Their presence made people skittish, and my marks, who were usually up to no good and already skittish, often found somewhere else to be.
The shifters represented the elves in the human world, policing the magical people to ensure our kind was kept secret. I sometimes worked for the other type of law enforcement, a human-world office funded in secret by the U.S. government that operated with the same goal—keeping all things magical from the humans. One would think the two factions would combine forces, but for whatever reason, that didn’t happen. Instead, the two groups were always at odds with each other. Hence my eternal annoyance with the shifters.
No sooner had I reached my destination, the Purple Bear, than Jimmy, the manager, said, “I don’t want no trouble in here tonight.” He stood at the doorway of the bar, warding away underage partygoers with his perma-scowl. “It’s a slow night and I don’t want no one leaving.”
“This one will be real easy, Jimmy, don’t you worry.” I patted him on the arm. Unlike Red, Jimmy did not flinch. “Grab and bag. No big deal.”
“You say that every time.”
“And it would be true every time if it wasn’t for outside influences.”
He sniffed. “Who you looking for?”
I scanned the dimly lit interior. Four people sat at the bar. Two were on their own and hunched over their drinks, and the other two were rehearsing for the horizontal ugly dance, hands all over each other.
“A small, wiry fella.” I shifted to the side of the door when two girls staggered closer. Jimmy reached for their IDs. “Balding. Brown eyes. He has a tattoo of a yeti on the side of his neck. Yesterday I was told he’d be in here to meet a buyer. Don’t ask what he’s selling—I have no idea.”
“A yeti?” Jimmy shoved the ID back at the first girl and took the ID of the other. The girls giggled for no reason.
“Yeah. An abominable snowman. You seen him?”
Jimmy returned the second ID and jerked his head for the women to enter. They giggled again, still for no reason. “I seen a short, balding man. Didn’t notice no tattoo. He walked through ’bout a half hour ago. I’d leave that one alone, if I was you.”
“Why is that?” I shifted so I could scan the booths. “The music tonight sucks, by the way. Did you lose a bet?”
“Becau—” He cut his explanation short and glanced inside. “That’s the best I could get last minute. The normal gig canceled an hour before they was supposed to be here. I had to get a human band, and I don’t have many connections on that front.”
Jimmy was a merman, which had shocked the hell out of me. I constantly wanted to ask how procreation worked, since they did it in mermaid form, what with the fins and the man parts and all that, but he was very closed-mouthed about it. All I knew was that he disappeared for a month out of the year to frolic in the ocean. Also, he hated when I used the word frolic.
Especially while smirking.
“Why’d they cancel?” I asked, eyeing the first booth of people, an older couple wearing beads and laughing.
“Same reason you should call it a night and walk away. We got vamps. They came in out of the Realm.”
I pulled away from the door—reflex. “Out of the Realm? What level are they?”
“Middle or higher. And an elder. He walked in earlier like he owned the world. He ain’t the type to mess with, Reagan, even for you. Seems like they have an interest in your mark.”
I swore silently and stared out at the street. “How do you know? Did they make a move?”
“Because I know. And no, they didn’t. Not yet. Been vamp sightings all over the place, though. Them little furries are in a tizzy.”
He meant the resident shifter pack, probably. Mostly wolves and one badger. They were always the first respondents to vamp sightings in this area—under the Realm jurisdiction, anyway. My branch didn’t respond until something actually happened.
“The little furries don’t have enough power to move in and chase the vamps away.” Jimmy pulled up his britches. “That should tell you something about what’s going on. I’d go after someone less noteworthy.”
“Or…” I scratched my chin in thought. “I could bag him, hold him, and negotiate for a larger payout.”
Jimmy’s lips turned downward, and his brow furrowed. “Or you could bag him, hold him, and get eaten by vamps.”
“Don’t be silly. Vamps are just cuddly creatures that want a hug.”
Ignoring his protest, I slipped into the bar and immediately against the wall. Moving fast, I made it to the corner with the broken light fixture. Nice and shadowy. From there I had a full view of the first two booths and their inhabitants.
Baldy was sitting in the middle booth with a girl. She glanced around the bar with moving lips, her eyes wary. A forgotten beer sat at her elbow. Baldy sat opposite, his eyes on the strap of the handbag resting on her shoulder. He licked his lips in anticipation.
What are you selling?
It didn’t matter to my job in the least, but I was curious what would get the vampires all worked up. Elders seldom acted directly, preferring to send their minions. So it was extraordinary for one to not only leave the Realm, but to actually follow a mark into a bar.
I glanced at the last booth, seeing a shoulder. The person sat with his or her back to the divider, on the other side of Baldy. My waist bumped the wood of the bar as I edged over until the person’s hair came into sight, cropped close and styled with mousse. Probably a man.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, leaning against the bar.
“I’m good. I won’t be here long. Actually…” I reached into my pocket for a five. One of my last. “What’s the guy at the end drinking?” I pointed to the far booth.
Wariness crossed her bold features. “Just a beer, but it’s full. He doesn’t want company.”
The head in the last booth turned a fraction, his awareness now encompassing me, the chick who wanted to buy him a drink. Abnormally great hearing confirmed he was the vampire, and the fact that he could hear me over the racket of the band meant he was old.
Very old.