I bolted upright drenched in a cold sweat and fought the blanket tangled around my legs. When I finally freed myself, I chucked it aside in a heap, flopped back down, and buried my face in my pillow to block out the too-bright rays of morning. Or afternoon. Whatever.
Without checking my phone, I had no way of knowing what time it was, and I was alright with that. Just as sleep crept back in, my phone rang. And rang. Until it finally cut off. I smirked and settled back in when someone banged on my door instead.
“Get up, Mercy!” Damian yelled. “Know you’re in there.”
“What?” I hollered back. “Can’t a girl get some damned sleep?”
“It’s four in the afternoon! You haven’t answered your phone all day,” he shot back. “And you’ve got a new job so get your ass out of bed and answer your door before I break it down.”
Spewing curses and shoving my messed-up hair from my face, I climbed out of bed and stalked across my small living space to yank open the door. “There. Happy?”
He frowned, but moved past me and inside. “Jesus, don’t you ever clean?”
“Why? Not like I’m ever here long enough,” I muttered through a yawn. “Coffee?”
“I’ll never understand how you sleep so damned much.”
I mocked him as I went to the small kitchenette area and tossed some grounds in the maker then filled up the pot with water. “You do realize how busy I am, right? That most of the time I’m preoccupied with getting my ass kicked?”
“I see your wounds were taken care of.”
“Yep. No thanks to you,” I snapped with a mocking smile, finished filling the pot, and started the maker.
My elbow was burning which was normal after a goblin bite, but I had plans to visit another acquaintance to see if there was anything else she could give me for it. Not that I actually made it to the clinic last night, this morning, whatever. Too damned tired and nursing my wounds in peace was preferable to parading them around the ER.
“You have a new target,” he finally said and tossed a file on the kitchen table that was barely big enough for one person to sit at. “All the info’s inside and your way to get close to him.”
After pouring a half cup of coffee, too impatient to wait for more, I flipped open the folder. The face of a man looked back at me, frost-colored eyes telling me exactly what he was without even having to look at the line that proclaimed his type.
Mage.
I shot Damian a look, but he was walking around my place, sniffing the air, and grunting to himself about my lack of care for how I lived. The temptation to chuck my mug at his head was extremely high, but it was the only cup I had, having smashed the other one into the head of a djinn who’d followed me home one night. The fight ended with chucking him down several flights of stairs, and when he tried to come back again, I threw him out my window instead. Sometimes supes were too stubborn for their own good.
I shuffled through the pages more and frowned. “What the hell is this?”
“Invitation, what does it look like?”
“To a ball,” I said. “Damian, do I look like I’m going to fit in at a ball?”
“Our target is a high priority bounty,” he said as he joined me at the table. “You will need to find a way to get inside with whatever weapons you can in order to get him out, in one piece, without being harmed. He’s wanted by the Gathered, and they want him alive and unspoiled as much as possible.”
“What did he do?”
Damian shrugged. “Does it matter?”
I glared at the image of the mage and sensed the dormant magic inside me struggling in vain to break free as my anger grew. Not that it ever did when I needed it. The scar on my face tingled, and flashes of my latest nightmare had me gripping my mug until my knuckles turned white. “Not in the slightest. You sure I can’t rough him up a bit?”
“Yes. Okay now, the ball is tomorrow night, so I suggest you start getting ready.”
“How much they want for him back?”
“Five million.”
I choked on my coffee. “What?”
“As I said, high priority target but there is one slight issue. I doubt we’ll be the only ones after him. And this ball is being held in Sector 13.”
This time, I set my mug down before it slipped from my hands, and shook my head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You’re kidding, right? Sector 13? If I walk in there and anyone figures out who I am, they’ll eat me alive. Literally,” I said. “I can’t go in there alone!” Usually, I was game for taking down any mage with a bounty, but my anger would only get me so far in a room filled with other supes who hated me. No, not just hated me, would be more than happy to tear me apart.
“Don’t have a choice. This is the job.”
“And if I refuse?”
Resting his hands on the table, he leaned in close, growling under his breath, “Then a little birdy might be dropping off a tiny bit of information on a certain bounty hunter that will get her ass arrested. Or worse. Is that what you want?”
My gun and sword were across the room. And Damian was a big half-demon. The chances of taking him were slim to none. He trained me, after all, and I only ever bested him one time, and that was because he was distracted by some hot vampire walking in while we sparred.
His gaze drifted to where mine was aimed, at my weapons. He sneered. “I thought we were past this.”
“It’s Sector 13,” I repeated. “The Underground is bad enough, but I’ll be walking literally into the clutches of death.”
If anyone was smart, they avoided that sector. Not only was it known to harbor the worst of the worst criminals, but it was watched over by reapers. Old bastards who did what they wanted. The dead ruled that sector and very few entered without an invitation. The ball, I’d heard of it before, everyone had. Reapers always found it highly amusing that humans celebrated Halloween, so every year they threw a party of their own to mock them for it, along with all their traditions. There were rumors humans were often kidnapped, and no one ever saw them again. For years the Feds had been fighting to shut them down, but no evidence had ever been found. At least, nothing concrete. The mage was smart to hide there. The Gathered were strictly forbidden, so whatever this mage was accused of doing must have impressed the reapers—
“Wait, how did you get this invite?” I asked, confused.
“I’m a half-demon with very good connections. End of story.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I mumbled, waving the invitation back and forth nervously. “A ball. You really know how to ruin my day.”
“Big payday for us. If you pull this one off, maybe I’ll even let you take some vacation.” He looked around my apartment again. “Haven’t you made enough to live somewhere half decent? Is that a crack in the wall?”
“It is and what’s the point? Like I said, not here except to sleep.”
The truth was I was stashing away everything I made so I could make a run for it and get to another country. Hell, another continent would be ideal. Disappear. Since I became old enough to understand my arrangement with Damian, that had been the plan. Get money and get the hell out of here. I’d managed to stay off the radar so far, but all it would take was one slip-up. Or Damian deciding he didn’t like me any longer.
“Hmm. Just get your shit together and get to that ball.”
“These others after him, who do you think they are?” I asked, not watching him walk to the door. Already studying what was in the file before me.
“Other hunters, no doubt. Oh, and the Feds.”
“Right because that doesn’t make this about a hundred times harder.”
“You either do this mission, or you’re out. How about that?” he threatened.
I stilled, refusing to turn around.
“I expect to see that mage in your custody soon, or else this is the end of the road for us both.”
“And if I get killed in the process?”
“I’ll be sure to say something nice at the funeral. Though I’m pretty sure I’ll be the only one there,” he replied then walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Anger getting the better of me, I whirled around and chucked my coffee mug at the door.
It shattered, covering the floor in chunks of ceramic and coffee.
“Damn it. I really liked that mug.”
Leaving the pieces to pick up later, I found a small bowl, filled it with more coffee, dumped some creamer in it, way too much sugar, and sat at the table to get back to work making a plan that would not end with getting killed.