I lifted a side of the door and scurried under, not feeling any magic. A few letters sprawled out at my feet, barely inside, given how the door was leaning. I scooped them up and walked back to my bedroom, looking through the house for anyone physically hiding. Nothing.
I plopped down on my bed, feeling strangely hollow. Disappointed. I knew vampires predominantly looked after themselves and their way of life; of course I did. Everyone knew that. And who could blame them? With their humanity eroding away, taking their deeper emotions with it, all they really had was brainpower and boredom. Most of them turned to political intrigues, and as everyone knew, trusting politicians was a bad move. But I had hoped Darius would pull through. I’d hoped he would at least honor the contract, if not our working partnership.
I turned over one of the envelopes and saw that it was a packet of coupons. I tossed it to the bed for a “keep” pile. The way things were going, I’d probably need them. I turned the next letter over. Paper spam. If only there was an unsubscribe button for real mail.
The last was a plain envelope addressed to Reagan Somerset, Bounty Hunter Extraordinaire. In the sender area was “Your Future Master” with an address below it.
“Oh good, another stalker.” I tucked the tip of my finger in a little opening and slid it across, ripping open the envelope. The edge of the paper sliced into my finger.
“You diaper-wearing biscuit handler!” I shook my hand and examined my paper cut. A tiny line in my skin taunted me with stinging pain.
After shaking my hand again, I pulled out the paper and opened it up. A picture fluttered to the ground. Annoyed, I examined the letter.
In large font, the typed message said, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s make a deal.
It wasn’t signed.
I put it in the trash pile and bent to scoop up what was sure to be a dick pic. Since I wasn’t on social media and didn’t even have an email address, a few marks turned admirers took to sending me real pictures of their junk. I honestly had no idea why, since I couldn’t tell them apart. Yet that didn’t stop them from taking part in this strange sort of mating ritual for the hopelessly ignorant.
“C’mere, little willy, time to see the inside of the trash can.” My fingers hit off the edge and accidentally flipped it over.
I felt my brow furrow, wondering if it was Photoshop, until I saw the hand scrawled Durant and the arrow pointing to clothing filled out like a person wore them, without the person actually pictured.
Much like a vampire wouldn’t show up in a photo.
I snatched it up.
Ropes wound around an invisible body, indenting a shirt and pants. Out from the shirt hovered the top of a wooden post. Fire starters, those logs you bought in the store to light a fire, were piled up to mid-calf area on the pant.
That had to be a joke, since fire logs produced a slow smolder, not a proper burn.
I could just make out stone a ways behind the scene, dirty gray. The color and texture matched the Google Maps image of the meeting site. I checked the return address. Yes, the same place.
Darius’s clothing was different than when I’d last seen him. If it was him, and I had no reason to assume it wasn’t since I wouldn’t care about any other vampire, he must’ve made it to the lair, since I’d gone back to his house that night and he hadn’t been there. That didn’t tell me if the mage had sought Darius out, or vice versa.
So Mr. All Powerful had trapped Mr. Handsome. That would be fun to rub in Darius’s face.
Looking over the picture again, I focused on the rope. No way could normal rope keep a vampire put. He could easily rip out of it in his human form, or change to his monster form for an even easier escape. That rope had to be magical. Or else a spell was keeping him put and the rope was for show. Yes, that fit with the fire logs and the nature of the mage’s note. Cute.
I dropped the picture onto the letter and sat for a moment, staring at nothing. Thinking.
I glanced at the window, then the clock by my bedside table, which wasn’t working. I checked my phone. Four ten. Dawn wasn’t far away. If I stormed the gates now, I’d have a better chance of breaking in before they got all their defenses up. Then again, if they’d dropped off the letter earlier in the night, they were ready for me.
The other problem was that if I went now and got Darius out of there, he’d get fried by the sun. I wasn’t sure how exactly that would work with the contract, but killing a high-level vampire probably wouldn’t make me any friends, even if I still got paid. I already had one vampire pissed at me for killing a bond-mate—probably; I still didn’t have any proof—and I’d rather not make any more enemies.
So that meant tomorrow—or today, rather—evening, sundown.
I had a whole day to obsess. Great.
My mind flitted over the message. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s make a deal.
Let’s make a deal was clear enough, and I had a feeling it had to do with my power. Maybe he wanted me to stop breaking their spells? Or use my abilities to help them out? Whatever it was, the answer would be no.
What was with the showing-and-telling bit? A dick pic made sense with that line, but a surly vampire tied up to a post, ready to be burned at the stake by logs that didn’t do much more than glow?
I tapped my finger against my lips.
Fire.
Somehow, the mage knew I could magically create fire. How, I wondered, and did he know what kind?
I continued to tap my finger against my lips, thinking about the demon the mage was using. Wondering if I’d strayed close to the mage without having known it.
What else could it be?
Unless Margaret had somehow seen my getting John’s book, and blabbed when the powerful mage was questioning her…
My finger kept tapping.