“What are you?” I asked, sliding my plate aside and resting my forearms on the table.
“Shifter,” he said, scrutinizing me with his eyes.
Shifters lived hundreds of years, maybe longer, and aged slowly. By the looks of him, he was probably a few hundred years old.
He pinched his chin. “You are rough around the edges, but I think with the right help you could be one of the best.”
“The best what?”
“We do all kinds of jobs, and I only select people who stand out from all the rest. You have an impressive track record of kills. What motivates you?”
“Good fries.”
Who was this guy? Coming in like the Soviet KGB, and I hadn’t even had my pie yet.
“Let me make this clear: it is not important why you hunt these men, only that you do it well. I want to make you an offer, and you should carefully consider my proposal because this opportunity will only come once. You can refuse, but if you change your mind, the offer will be off the table.”
Betty appeared to my right, warming my coffee with a refill. “Can I get you something?” she asked the gentleman.
“Nyet, thank you,” he replied warmly with a brisk nod of his head.
She turned to me, concern brimming in her eyes. “Honey, do you want a second helping?”
“No, ma’am. But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you have any pie?”
Betty chuckled and patted my hand. “I have the apple pie all warmed up for you. I know it’s your favorite. Let me finish up something and I’ll bring it right over.”
“Ice cream?”
“You betcha.”
I smiled in gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver. Anyone ever tell you that?”
She walked off, just a small pear-shape of a woman, but she was a godsend.
“You are generous to the humans,” my companion noted absently. “My name is Viktor Kazan. Do you come with a name, or should I just keep calling you the Shadow?”
I bit into my last chicken finger and decided introductions weren’t going to kill me. “Raven.”
“And what are you, my dear?”
“Hungry, so if you’d wrap up this little ray of hope you’re bleeding all over my table, I’d like to get back to waiting for my pie.”
He sat back, shoulders straight. “I want you to listen to what I tell you. What we do is not different from what you do, only it’s cleaner. But we do so much more than that. It is dangerous work, but you’ll be one of us, and that means protection. You’ll have food, shelter, and a paycheck.”
“Maybe sweeping the streets isn’t a job to me; maybe it’s a mission I do for the love of it.”
Viktor leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “Forgive me. I did not know I was dining with Mother Teresa. The next time you’re searching for a hot meal and don’t have a place to stay, remember that you’re wasting your talents.”
I sipped my coffee and then set down the white cup. “So you created your own little organization of bounty hunters. What makes you so different from them or that HALO group of do-gooders?”
“Because we do what bounty hunters can’t and what HALO won’t.”
A chill ran up my spine. HALO was a group of men who investigated crimes and brought down criminals, but they did everything by the book. The same applied for most bounty hunters, except that they did more extensive traveling. If what he said was true, that meant the higher authority was possibly paying them to do things in secret—breaking laws without repercussions. Breed didn’t have an official form of government, but the higher authority was as close as it got. Elected members from each Breed sat on the panel, and one was located in every major city throughout the United States. From what I knew, they were the ones who imposed sentencing, whether it be serving time in Breed jail or the death sentence.
“How did you find me?”
“You can only catch a shadow when you stand very still. I have a tracker who is good at what he does.”
I blanched at the idea this guy had been following me. Had I left behind clues? Bread crumbs? Evidence?
He slid a white card in my direction. “Keep it.”
Betty set a white dish in front of me with a slice of apple pie and vanilla ice cream. She took my empty plate and went about her business, wiping down tables and refilling the napkin holders.
I flipped the card over.
“All it says is ZERO. Is that your phone number or how many times you’ve been laid?”
“Go to the bakery on the corner of Avenue B and 14th Street tomorrow. Do you know the place of which I speak? It has red lettering on the windows.”
“I know it.”
He pointed at the card. “Give that to the baker and ask for the daily special.”
“Will he give me a loaf of bread with a microchip inside? That’s almost as fun as finding baby Jesus in a king cake.”
“Maybe this was a mistake,” he muttered.
My whole life had been a mistake, so I didn’t see the harm in making another. “Let’s just say that I’m considering your offer. What if I join and then decide it’s not the life for me?”