Mace woke to the sound of screaming. When one lived in a brothel, it wasn’t uncommon to hear screams, especially in Finn’s brothel…but this scream was like nothing he’d ever heard. It was like it was torn straight from her lungs. He snatched the knife he kept under his pillow, running down the hall, dreading what he might find when he reached the source.

He wasn’t the only one curious. The cry had lured most of the girls from their rooms. Most of their companions now loitered in various stages of undress, vexed and grumbling at being interrupted during a session they’d paid good coin for. The girls crowded around the door at the end of the hall. The room belonged to the new girl, Alice…no Augusta. He’d met her just this morning in the kitchens. He’d thought her shy and sweet, and not nearly strong enough to survive under Finn’s rule.

Mace set aside each of the girls until he stood in the doorway. He stopped short, taking in the scene before him. Sweet, gentle, petite Augusta with her ginger hair and delicate smile had Franny pinned to the bed, a set of pinking shears in her hand and a mad look in her eyes as she methodically severed chunks of the girls long, golden hair and pushed them into Franny’s mouth.

“What, in God’s name, is going on in here?” Finn asked, pushing his way past the girls and then Mace. “Augusta? You will halt this behavior immediately! I do not tolerate petty squabbles in my establishment!”

The girl’s head snapped in his direction with such force that the girls in the doorway took a collective step back.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. She’s possessed, she is. Look at ‘er,” Lottie whispered next to him, Irish accent so thick, he could barely understand her. Lottie crossed herself, and two girls followed suit, looking spooked.

“It was that man, I tell ya. Made my skin crawl, ‘e did.” Dorcas agreed, each straining their necks to see over Mace’s shoulders, wanting to watch the drama unfold without making themselves a target.

Mace shook his head, trying not to smile. The girls were always quick to point to some monster in the shadows. Finn said the girls spent too much time with their heads in their penny dreadfuls. He said with the ripper tearing through London’s whores, the girls had painted the killer as some type of demon instead of a mortal man with a mind for murder. But Mace couldn’t connect the girl from this morning with the mad creature now perched easily on the chest of a woman twice her size.

“Augusta, you will stop this at once.”

Augusta stared at Finn like an animal assessing its prey, her eyes tracking him as he moved, her fingers spasming around the handle of the shears.

“Get the girls out of here, Mace.”

Mace nodded. “You heard him. Off you go, girls. Franny will be fine. Finn will see to that.”

“Yeah, right. ‘cuz Finn’s got such a gentle touch,” Dorcas simpered mockingly, her feet bare and hips swaying.

“Touched, she is. I’m tellin’ ya.” Lottie said, stumbling as she looked back over her shoulder. Mace snatched her upper arm to keep her upright, all but dragging her as she fought to take in the chaos behind her. Her curiosity was going to get her killed.

“Best be keeping your nose out of other’s business,” Mace said.

“Yeah, ‘fore Finn cuts it off,” Dorcas said, flicking Lottie’s nose as she passed.

Lottie glared at the other girl, snatching at her finger before looking to Mace. “It was the man with the silver hair and eyes. He weren’t human, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Mace assured her. “Go back to your rooms and don’t come out until Finn or I say so. Understand?”

There was lots of huffing and sighs, but in the end, they acquiesced to his request. Mace returned to Finn just in time to see Finn snap Augusta’s neck, before letting her collapse back onto Franny, who began to scream anew. Finn sighed, snatching the dead girl’s hair and tossing her from the bed as if she weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the girl’s bowing mattress, folding his large hand over the girl’s mouth. “Quiet, or you’re next. Understand?” She nodded, eyes teary. “Who was here last?”

He moved his hand, but she didn’t speak. She trembled, looking to Mace as if he could somehow save her. He couldn’t even save himself. When Finn’s gaze flicked to the shears on the floor, Franny’s chest heaved, panicked, as if she could read Finn’s mind.

“The girls said it was a man with silver hair and silver eyes,” Mace supplied.

Finn stood, walking to Mace, Franny temporarily forgotten. The girl sat up tucking her legs beneath her, attempting to make herself small. She turned her eyes away from sweet Augusta’s broken body on the floor.

“What man?” Finn asked.

“Just now,” Mace said, attempting to put a small amount of space between him and the taller man. “Lottie said there was something about him. She said he was a demon.”

“Sluagh,” Finn growled. “They dare feed from my girls?”

Mace didn’t know what to say about that. He’d never heard the word uttered before, but he felt sorry for whoever drew Finn’s ire. Though, if he was somehow responsible for what just occurred, then perhaps he deserved what he got.

“Come with me,” Finn said, not looking to see if Mace followed. Mace would always follow. They went into Finn’s small study off the main entrance. This wasn’t his home, but Molly’s brothel belonged to him. He needed somewhere to count up all the money he made off Mace and the others.

Finn poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to Mace. Mace stared at it for a long time. “What are you waiting for? Drink up.”

Mace did. Taking a sip, before swirling the dark liquid in the glass. “What’s a sluagh?”

“Sluagh. Dark fae. The Unseelie.”

Mace drifted closer, unable to stop himself. “Fae? Like me?”

Finn sneered at him. “You’re not pure fae.”

Mace felt the slur like a physical blow, but he let it roll off of him. He’d grown a thick skin since coming to work for Finn. “Dark fae? Are they malevolent?”

“Aye,” Finn agreed, taking a seat and kicking his booted feet up on his desk. He inclined his head to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Mace did as he was told, perching himself on the edge of his seat. “What did he do to her?”

“He fed off her.”

“Like a vampire?”

A ghost of a smile chased across Finn’s face and, for a brief moment, he looked at Mace almost fondly, but then it was gone. “No. Sluagh are soul eaters.”

A shiver ran along Mace’s spine. “He ate her soul?”

Finn nodded, staring out the window at the snow blanketing the streets outside. He took a sip of his drink. “Long ago, the Unseelie would scour the world looking for those with fae blood and the blackest of hearts, and they would turn them into one of them.”

“Why fae blood?”

“Because you can’t turn a mortal into a sluagh; you can only turn the fae.”

“But why are they looking for Blackhearts?”

“They knew that those whose deeds were dark enough would be forsaken by the gods that guard the light world and the dark, and when your only fate is to spend eternity trapped on this plane, unable to move on, it makes it easier for them to recruit. You cannot force a person to become sluagh, they must choose it.”

“Why would anybody choose to live off the souls of others?”

“Sluagh have no souls themselves. They live a life free of conscience. They answer to nobody. They feel nothing. They do only what they please and have no masters. They are immortal.”

“But they have to eat the souls of others,” Mace said again. Why would anybody choose to live that way?

“True, but not all of them are as ill-mannered as the one who attacked our poor Augusta.”

Mace gnashed his teeth together until his jaw ached. Finn cared naught for Augusta or any of them. Not even Mace. His favorite. His chosen one. It was all theater. A show to make them behave. “How so?”

“Many live off the sick or the dying, others take the souls of only the vilest men. You’ve seen the sort that frequents places like this. You’ve had occasion to dispatch more than a couple yourself. You know taking the life of a person who does no good in the world is much more palatable than taking the life of an innocent. Yes?”

He nodded once, bringing his glass to his lips, letting the fluid burn its way through him. Mace didn’t like killing. He found it repugnant, but he had to agree that there was little value in the lives he’d taken. They were thieves and murderers, abusers who tried to do unspeakable things to innocents. Each time, it became a little easier. “It still sounds like a terrible way to spend eternity.”

“Really? I would think you of all people would find the idea soothing. You bear the world’s stresses upon your shoulders, pet.” Finn took another sip of his brandy. “Wouldn’t it be nice to live with no fear? No worries? To live life for only yourself? What would you give to never have to feel again?”

He read Mace so well. Mace would do almost anything. But never that. “I could never abandon my sisters,” Mace said. Finn’s lips pressed together, eyes narrowing. “Or you,” Mace said, hoping his smile seemed genuine.

Finn scoffed, “Save your platitudes, I have no interest in disciplining you tonight. Drink your brandy and go to bed. I have to go have a conversation with a soul eater.”

“What will you do with him when you find him?”

Finn stared out the window, blue eyes burning as white as the snow blanketing the busy London street outside. “Show him why you don’t steal from a Fomorian.”