She pushed the envelope over to me. "This is the woman I want you to take care of."
I frowned and opened it up. With incredible self control, I stilled my body's first violent reaction and lifted uninterested eyes to her. "She's pretty," I said with no emotion in my voice. "But I still don't get why you want her dead."
Ella's bright blue eyes looked up at me from the photo. From her expression, she didn't know she was being photographed. She was dressed much differently than I'd seen her before and I decided I didn't like it. In the photo, she wore a pair of cigarette pants with high heels and a form fitting blouse. Her makeup was perfect, her jewelry was perfect, but even worse, she wore a ring on her left hand finger. A wedding ring. "When was this picture taken?" I inquired.
Clara studied me. "Why does it matter?"
"Because a lot can happen in a short period of time. If this is what you want me to use to track her, I'll need more than this." I didn't tell her I knew Ella was asleep and resting in an apartment in a shitty area of town. The need to protect her was wearing thin on my patience, but I knew better than to storm into a stranger's house and start making demands. Ella's feistiness would only come back to bite me in the ass.
"Eight months ago," Clara snapped. "I haven't been able to find her since."
Considering I'd ran into her by accident yesterday, I had to assume Clara hadn't been trying very hard. Or there were other forces at work. "Tell me why you want her dead."
Impatience snapped in the fae's eyes. "I already told you." She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. "You aren't very good at this mate thing," she murmured.
From the corner of my eyes, Theo stiffened at the bar and sent a quick, concerned glance over to me. "Not much has happened to make me think we're mates." I leaned forward. "Maybe it's just animalistic lust," I remarked.
One of Clara's eyebrows rose. "And do you experience that kind of lust often?"
I shrugged. "Here and there. A man has needs, after all," I drawled. "But for all this talk of mates, you don't seem too interested in me. We've known each other for months and I haven't even gotten a little kiss."
Something flashed in her eyes and it wasn't interest. So. Something larger was at play here. The thought that Clara wasn't my mate was becoming more and more of a possibility. "You never asked," she purred.
The thought of kissing her wasn't as appetizing as it had once been. "Clara, you've never shown me the slightest interest. I won't ask a woman for what she isn't willing to give."
Clara sensed she was losing me. She got out of her seat, and I felt her magic humming. Without missing a beat, she straddled my waist. If she would have done this a few months ago, I would have taken her against the wall. But now, raven hair and crystal blue eyes swam in front of my face and the feel of Clara's body against mine filled me with a slight sense of revulsion. To keep from giving myself away, I put my hands around her waist.
"Not here. Let's finish the bargain between us and then we can see this thing through." I had zero intentions of doing that, but I hoped the mating bond between Ella and I would be complete by the time she tried to seduce me.
Something odd was going on here and I intended to get to the bottom of it. Disappointment and something that looked like anger flashed over her expression and she got up. "Very well then." She tapped a finger on the photo. "This is the target. She needs to disappear."
"I told you I won't kill anyone." Ella's haunted eyes stared up at me from the page.
"You will once I tell you what she's done," Clara said, a satisfied smile lifting her lips.
I'm sure I wouldn't, but I didn't say a word. "Tell me then."
"This woman is a grifter. She married her husband, Greg, then bled him dry for every single penny he had. When that was done, she went out and continues to steal from those less fortunate than her. She's a psychic, the lowest dredge of paranormal that this world has. She's a plague to all of us and she doesn't know how to control her powers. Every day she's allowed to live, we come closer to disaster."
I shook my head slowly. "So she cheated on her husband. A lot of people cheat on their spouses. It doesn't mean they should lose their life over it. A lot of people steal too. Why should she die?"
"An untrained psychic loses her grip on reality after a while. Many people will die if she remains unschooled."
A frown settled itself on my face. "So train her." It seemed simple enough.
"It's too late. She's begun to use her powers to influence others around her and already heads down the path of dark magic." Clara shook her head like she was sad. I was starting to think this fae was full of shit.
I decided to play along. "Alright then. I'll tell you what. I'll cozy up to her and see if I can get to the bottom of this. If she's as terrible as you say or has the influence you think she does, I'll take care of it."
A bright smile appeared on Clara's face. I held up a finger. "But," I continued, "if I see you're wrong or you're trying to make her a bad guy, you will answer to me."
Fear, raw and wild, flickered in her eyes, but she smiled at me - a cool and arrogant thing. "Very well, then. I look forward to our deal being complete."
"Me too," I told her and she had no idea how much it was true.
5
Ella
I felt … odd. Like a part of me was lost somewhere, and I had no idea where to find it. I rolled over and blearily looked at the alarm clock. Nine a.m. I groaned and rolled back over. When I was married, I had a routine. I realized I missed it. Now I rolled out of bed whenever I wanted, spent a good portion of the day in my pajamas, and only went to the store when I scraped the bottom of the bread bag. Living like a college student wore on me. I was in my mid-twenties for crying out loud.
But every time I thought I wanted to go back to my previous life, I remembered Greg. As soon as I did, it all blew away like sand on a windy day. I squeezed my eyes shut at the unwanted memories, but like always they plagued me. Morning time was the worst.
One of our friends challenged us to doubles tennis down at the country club. I fucking hated tennis and thought only losers played it, but I always felt like I had to do whatever Greg wanted. I got dressed in that dumb ass skirt rich women like to wear and we drove down to the club in Greg's beamer. As soon as I got out of the car, I headed right to the bar for a fortifying drink only to see Mitzi, the wife of the local prosecutor, giving me a stiff smile. In front of her was a bowl of berries and a sparkling water.
In front of me was a whiskey sour and a bowl of peanuts. I remember waving at her and trying to play it off, but not five minutes later, Greg came over hissing in my ear about what a disgrace I was. The memory of it made my cheeks flame with embarrassment. Why had I allowed him to rule my life that way? And who wore a fucking skirt with shorts attached to them to play a sport? My preferred sport was beer pong or contact frisbee if the weather was nice enough or I'd drank enough beer.
And when I thought about it too hard, I realized some of it was my fault for allowing it. Greg was handsome, well-off, and a smooth talker. I had the physical appearance of a trophy wife - or so I overheard him say to his friends one day when he thought I'd left the room. I thought he would take care of me and he thought I looked the part and could be molded into the perfect Stepford wife. And Greg thought a big part of that was allowing myself to take the insults he doled out to me on a daily basis.