“Hartt.” She sniffled and rubbed her nose, regretted the hell out of it when the cartilage the elf in question had fractured shifted and a thousand hot needles pricked her across her cheeks. “Kitty’s name is Hartt.”
Syn froze. “Hartt. Hartt of that guild.”
Before she could answer, Syn continued, her pace picking up as she moved closer still, dragging the box with her and plucking the blue vial from it.
“You should have told me. Are you crazy? We’re good, sweetie, but we’re not that good. You’re backing out of this contract.” Syn popped the star-shaped lid off the vial and a waft of lavender with an undernote of brimstone hit Mackenzie. “That’s an order. This is suicide, Mac. Suicide. I don’t care what the bastard client offered you. Nothing is worth you dying.”
“Ten thousand,” Mackenzie muttered as Syn raised the vial to her lips.
The scent that came off it stung her nostrils and made her eyes water as Syn froze again.
“Coins?” Syn said. “Ten thousand gold coins?”
Mackenzie gave a tiny nod.
“Shit,” Syn grumbled and sank back, taking the vial with her. She stared at Mackenzie, her amber gaze distant, her red lips parted and her black eyebrows pinned high on her forehead. “Ten thousand in gold coins could… well, what couldn’t it do?”
“Add to that the prestige that will come from claiming the head of this mark, and we’re set, Syn. This is what we’ve been working towards all this time.” A shiver ran down her spine. “We made a vow when we lost Trina. We swore we would lead the guild well and we would do whatever it took to elevate it to the place where it should have been, so Trina would be proud of us. This is what it takes, Syn. This is our chance.”
She neglected to mention that Hartt had offered to buy her out. Syn would no doubt jump on the offer and the chance to get Mackenzie out of a dangerous situation.
Mackenzie took the blue vial from her friend and swallowed the contents. She grimaced as it went down like a shot of slime and coated her throat. The moment it hit her stomach, she placed her hand over her mouth and cried into it, muffling the sound. Fire spread through her like a tidal wave, felt as if it was burning her to ashes as the spell went to work. It blazed like an inferno where the elf had clawed her, and on her arm, set her leg aflame too. Sweat dotted her brow as she tried to ride the wave of agony, clinging to consciousness.
The first time she had taken the potion to speed her healing, she had passed out.
Syn had kindly called her a wuss when she had come around.
“So, what’s the plan? Kiss your boyfriend some more until he succumbs to your charms and gives up the fight? I’ve heard all the same tales you have. He won’t back down.” Syn took the empty vial from her and placed it back in the case.
“I know that.” And she wasn’t planning to kiss him again.
Ever.
It had been a mistake, and it had left her reeling and confused, and deeply troubled. Something was wrong with her. That was the only reasonable answer.
“I injured him too,” she said and tested her arm, rolling her right shoulder. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the gods when she didn’t feel even the slightest twinge. She was good to go. “He’s going to be out of action for a while and I plan on taking advantage of that.”
Syn accidentally played with her horn again, and levelled a black look on Mackenzie for noticing the tell. Her friend was nervous. Worried.
“I’ll be fine.” Mackenzie touched her knee.
“Of course you will be,” Syn said brightly. “Because I’m coming with.”
Mackenzie was quick to shake her head. “You know the rules he laid down. It has to be solo… and don’t say he wouldn’t know, because I have the sneaking suspicion he would. I don’t want to lose a payday that big because I broke one of his cardinal rules.”
The client had been very clear about what would happen if she didn’t follow his rules to the letter. No coin. Not only that, but he would hire someone to take care of her. She wasn’t about to take his threat lightly.
“I have this, Syn.” She squeezed the demoness’s knee through her black leathers. “If I get in there now, while the elf has gone to regroup and heal up, then I can wrap this up without having to fight him again.”
She expected the thought of never having to see Hartt again to be a relief, but it left a strange hollow feeling in her chest. It had been more than a mistake to kiss him. She closed her eyes and told herself on repeat that he was the enemy. A good looking, dangerously alluring enemy, but an enemy nonetheless. He couldn’t be anything else to her.
“Yeah, you just have to fight the vampire… on his home turf… while he’s surrounded by his entire legion.” Syn closed the lid of the case with a snap. “Tell me you know what you’re doing.”
Mackenzie looked off to her left, at the rears of the dark stone buildings that formed the outskirts of the town, and drew down a breath to steady herself.
She locked gazes with Syn.
“I have a plan.”
Chapter 10
Mackenzie’s plan was either going to get her killed or get her guild the recognition they deserved. As she strode into the centre of the town, leaving the wasteland behind, she tipped her shoulders back and flicked the loose waves of her flame-red hair over her shoulder. As predicted, several males stared, their heated gazes tracking her as she wove her way along the busy street.
She paused from time to time, ensuring she caught the eye of the males as much as possible, and ignored how the jewels and pretty things in the bay windows of the stores drew her gaze to them. Her oldest brother had called her Magpie when she had been younger, had always teased her about how she was distracted by shiny things. A faint smile teased her lips as she recalled those happier times, back in the north where mountains formed havens for her kind.
Her senses stretched around her as she gazed at the rings and other jewellery, items she wanted but would never own. They looked expensive, and as much as she desired them, it would be pointless to save the coin to buy them. She didn’t have anywhere to wear them, and she couldn’t wear them to work.
She was liable to destroy them.
A group of males paused near her as she slowly tucked her hair behind her ear and grazed her fingertips down the side of her throat. Their eyes tracked her hand, fixed on her neck and lingered there.
Vampires.
She shifted her gaze to the right as she lifted it, pretended to look at the jewellery but instead looked at the reflection in the glass.
Three males.
Two of them wore the traditional uniform of the Preux Chevaliers, were dressed in fine black knee-length jackets, tight trousers and polished riding boots. The third, a brunet, wore mortal fashion of a black shirt and trousers.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen a vampire in the town wearing clothing of a more civilian nature. Every time she had visited to do some recon work, she had witnessed groups of vampires dressed in attire from the mortal realm, and she supposed it was to be expected since they had all been born and raised there.
Vampires of the aristocratic bloodlines—a fancy word for being a purebred vampire with no turned humans in their lineage—all served in the Preux Chevaliers for a term of four centuries.