Twenty-Eight

 

Alasdair parked illegally with the car half on the pavement, and we all jumped out of the car. My hand went for my knife, only to come up empty. I hadn’t retrieved a replacement, as I couldn’t take that through airport security. I felt naked. The air was remarkably still and quiet. I glanced around, looking for a witch or a fae. Alasdair came up beside me and pressed the hilt of a blade into my hand.

“Grayson has gone around the other side of the alley. You’re with me,” he whispered in my ear before he strode up to the entrance of the alley in question.

Bright blue wooden shop frontages with white trim sat on either side of the alley. It looked to be ancient with pale stone and white mortar, the stone itself worn smooth and soft around the edges. A heavy archway swept over the entrance. The moment we stepped through the archway, the sound hit us. I gripped the knife tighter and looked around for the magic wielder. We’d need to take them out.

A trio of hunters had what looked to be a made elf pinned against the wall. The smallest of them, a young woman with deep brown hair and a round face, struck the elf hard in the solar plexus, causing her to groan. The two men flanked her and laughed.

“You twisted fucks think it’s funny to outnumber and beat a woman?” I snarled.

Alasdair had a predatory smile on his face as he pulled his knives and eyed up the largest of the men. I caught a glimpse of Grayson tackling someone at the far end of the alley.

The three hunters turned to face Alasdair and me. The poor elf collapsed to her knees against the wall. Blood coated her pale shirt and bare legs. The biggest of the hunters, a broad older man who clearly spent a lot of time in the gym, took a step towards Alasdair. He paused when he caught sight of the sigils on Alasdair’s hands, and I ignored that particular pissing match to try and get between the hunters and the elf.

“What the fuck are Guardians doing here?” the female hunter said.

I flashed her a broad smile and allowed my wolf forward enough to give me the advantage of its increased strength and senses. My magic bubbled up alongside the wolf, and a small flame licked down the edge of the knife. I bottled it back up as I got within arm’s reach of the female hunter. The familiar sound of crunching cartilage echoed around the alley as Alasdair’s fist met his hunter’s nose.

“You’re made! What are you doing with the Guardians, you filthy abomination!?” the female hunter shouted, drawing the other hunter’s attention.

So much for my hopes of hiding the fact I was made once I was rid of the enforcer brand.

I gave her my sweetest smile. “I’m putting you in your place, sweetheart.”

She threw herself at me in an explosive action that came with a pair of small knives aimed at my abdomen. I side-stepped her at the last second, putting me closer to the trembling elf, and tilted my head a little.

“I thought you called yourself a hunter,” I taunted.

Alasdair had his hunter pinned to the far wall by the throat, leaving me with two while Grayson dealt with the magic wielder. Given the scream of anguish, I was assuming Grayson was tearing said magic wielder apart. The sandy-haired hunter whom we’d ignored thus far was a narrow wiry man with patchy stubble along his weak jaw and oil-stained jeans. He tried to move around behind me while I was focused on the female. I spun on my heel and lashed out at his throat with my knife before I stepped back to guard the elf from further attack. The female hunter landed a heavy punch to my ribs. I pushed the pain down and threw my weight into turning to face her. My fist met her throat with every bit of force I could muster. She didn’t stand a chance. Her eyes went wide as she clawed at her throat before she passed out.

Alasdair grabbed hold of the sandy-haired one and tossed him across the alley before the hunter could drive his knife into my kidneys. I glanced down the alley to see Grayson strolling towards us as though he were sight-seeing.

“The little witch they were working with developed a rather large hole in her skull,” he said brightly.

With the hunters in crumpled heaps, I stepped away from the elf and gave her some room to breathe. Grayson and Alasdair stood back so she had plenty of room to run should she choose to. She looked up at us with large eyes before she bared sharp teeth and bolted. I shrugged and handed Alasdair his blade back. The fae made were often skittish and volatile, and elves were no exception. I hadn’t been expecting any thanks from her.

Alasdair ran his knuckles over my cheek. “Are you ok?”

I resisted the urge to scowl at Grayson’s smug smirk. “Yea, fine, only a broken rib, it’ll heal.”

Alasdair smiled, apparently satisfied, before he headed back to the car.

“You need to get that fire under control,” Grayson whispered in my ear as he walked past.

I froze for half a beat before I schooled my expression into one of confusion. Fuck, were hellhounds that sensitive to fire magic? Had Alasdair noticed it? I watched Alasdair open the front door of the car. Nothing about him had suggested he was going to send me to the Council or worse. I swallowed down my fear and hoped I wasn’t missing something.