| |
“People who enjoy meetings should not be in charge of anything.”
~ Thomas Sowell
––––––––
Born as Bjorn Crawford, Bear never lived up to the fancy name his mom carefully selected for him, but he found success in other things. Mainly stealing stuff and living a life of crime. That hadn’t been his original goal, but after trying, and failing, to make a living the honest way, he focused on just making a living. Period.
Bear pulled up the collar of his leather jacket and hunched his shoulders against the bitter breeze. Shockingly cold for a late spring night, the air drifting off the ocean surface had been refreshing at first but had since turned frigid and bone-numbing. Bear couldn’t wait to get home, crank the heat and cuddle with his cat. Instead, he stood in an empty parking lot on the North Shore waiting for the client to show up so he could hand over the “artifact” and collect payment.
Normally, Eli handled this crap.
Eli was his contact from the guild of thieves that resided in the Underworld—a dark fae-operated realm that used to be closed off from the Mortal Realm by a magical barrier. That barrier crashed down when a bunch of scientists fucked around with stuff they didn’t quite understand. A whole lot of invasions, servitude and death followed, but eventually things settled into an uneasy truce with everyone more or less staying on their respective sides and playing by the rules. Mostly.
Now, magicless humans, known as regs, cohabitated the damaged Mortal Realm alongside supernatural beings native to Earth who, due to circumstances created by the barrier collapse, no longer hid their powers and abilities. Most regs desperately wished for things to return to “normal” and clung to a misplaced belief that restoring the barrier and ridding the world of fae would somehow magically make all their problems go away. It didn’t matter that the barrier collapse happened generations ago. It didn’t matter that extensive research and trials had failed to reconstruct anything remotely similar to the magical barrier. And it certainly didn’t matter that they had no personal experience with the dream they so fanatically craved.
Bear wasn’t holding out or wishing for a new shiny world. He certainly wasn’t waiting. What was the point? The faepocalypse happened before he was born and this was his reality. Life was too short. Things would never go back to “normal” and sitting around hoping wouldn’t change that. Regs and weak half-fae like himself needed to adapt to survive.
Though Bear knew working with and for the fae held more of a future than sticking his head in the sand like a delusional ostrich, a healthy dose of caution for the fatherland and fae kept him honest and kept him alive. He didn’t venture into the Other Realms often. He avoided them. Mom’s constant nagging and excessive warnings throughout his childhood made up the structural fibre of his very being. Besides, he didn’t like the feeling of potent magic against his small stash of power. Vulnerability and weakness weren’t his jam. He rarely placed himself in a position where he was out of his element.
Luckily, Eli travelled back and forth and maintained an outpost for contracts in the Mortal Realm. Fat lot of good it did Bear right now, though. Apparently, the client wanted a direct handover, which always carried more risk. Eli hadn’t sounded pleased with the stipulation, either, but Bear couldn’t tell whether Eli was insulted at the implication he was untrustworthy, or pissed off at the loss of half his handler fee.
“Artifact,” Bear grunted. With a worn cover, dog-eared corners, and a slightly musty smell, the book looked more like one of his sister’s old notebooks from school.
At first, Bear worried he’d stolen the Murdoch Manual—the infamous notes of the lead physicist from the group responsible for “accidentally” tearing down the magical barrier separating the Mortal Realm from the Other Realms. Stealing the coveted manual carried a death sentence. Despite taking on risky jobs, Bear didn’t have a death wish. He was relieved to read a different name scrawled in fancy handwriting on the cover.
Lindh. Only a few people read handwriting these days, but Bear was one of them. Had the client banked on him not reading cursive?
Bear flipped the book open, shuddered and quickly slammed it shut. Ugh. Math.
Bear’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He tucked the book under his arm and pulled out the phone. If this was Eli calling to tell him the client had changed the drop location or time, he was going to get angry. He’d already lost feeling in his toes and fingertips. Even Tasha had abandoned him to find warmer shelter.
Bear glanced at the screen. Unknown caller. He punched the green accept button with his thumb and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Bear! You lying piece of shit,” a woman shrieked.
Bear winced. “Monica?”
A scary silence answered him. Well, crap. That hadn’t been the right thing to say.
“It’s Janice,” she hissed, low and scary.
Oh, right. Janice. Memories of passionate nights rolling around in his bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs brought a smile to his lips. “Janice.”
“Don’t you purr at me, you two-timing asswipe.”
Huh? “What’s wrong?”
“You used me and moved on to some whore named Monica. That’s what’s wrong.”
“Hang on a minute—”
“You just go through women, moving on from one to the next like you’re some sort of cock carousel.”
“Cock carousel.” Bear repeated. That was a new one.
“And everyone’s had a ride, apparently.”
Bear took a deep breath, unsure of where to start. He didn’t really deserve this, but he needed to deescalate the situation, “Janice. I’m sorry that you’re upset.”
Janice screamed.
Bear winced. Okay. That wasn’t the right thing to say, either.
“Don’t even,” Janice said. “That’s not a true apology.”
Bear sighed. She was right, of course. He used the same words with his siblings when he wanted to see them turn red. “You’re right, but I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for. I enjoyed our time together, and thought you did, too. When we first met, I made it very clear anything between us would be temporary. I told you I was looking for something casual. I’m not into serious relationships. If I recall correctly, you were okay with that. You were rebounding from some asshole and wanted companionship without any strings attached. I don’t understand why you’re upset with me or how I wronged you. What changed?”
“I changed.”
“Oh.” Well, he couldn’t really be blamed for that, could he?
The bushes on the opposite side of the empty parking lot rustled.
“Look, Janice. I’d love to talk more, but—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t push me out. We need to talk about this now.”
“Why? What could possibly change now? Why do we need to talk about this at all?” She’d already called him an impressive range of names and clearly communicated her anger and dissatisfaction of how things ended between them. What more could she want?
“I want more.”
“Hell of a way to ask for it.” Bear flinched.
Janice sucked in a breath, probably readying herself to give him a verbal lashing.
Crap. That was definitely not the right thing to say. Dick move. He wasn’t wrong, but...
A man emerged from the bushes on the far side of the parking lot and stepped into the light.
“This isn’t a good time, Janice.”
More shrieking erupted from his phone. He cringed and hung up. He never intentionally hurt women. He was up front and honest. Bear must be missing something in his communications, though, because he found himself in this position more often than not. He had no intention of changing his ways or what he wanted, he just wished women believed him when he said he didn’t want a committed relationship. How could he have anything long term or meaningful?
He sighed, tucked the phone back in his pocket and walked out to meet the client.
Tasha croaked in a nearby tree and her energy pinged against Bear’s. He smiled, glad she had returned. He ignored the dark Other energy within begging to come out and play. Instead, he focused on the person in the otherwise empty parking lot.
Wearing a cheap suit, the skinny man looked more like a down-and-out accountant or public defense lawyer, not a criminal mastermind or a purveyor of stolen goods. He was probably just a lackey acting as a go between.
“Let’s see it,” the man said as he got closer. His thin whiney voice rubbed Bear the wrong way.
Bear shrugged off the grating effect. He couldn’t afford to react to silly things. Not when he needed to look for more dangerous indicators. The guy hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet.
Bear pulled the book from under his arm and held it up for the man to see the cover and read the name scrawled across it.
The man’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a long breath. He stepped forward to take the book.
Bear backed up and shook his head. “Let’s see the payment.”
“Your fee isn’t cheap.” The man pulled out an envelope from an inside pocket of his ill-fitting jacket, opened the flap and tipped it toward Bear so he could see the contents. Bear counted the amount quickly without seeing the faces—the one benefit of Canadian currency resembling board game money
Bear nodded and the man closed the envelope.
“Cheap, no, but this was a dangerous job.”
The man scowled. “Not as dangerous as my associate. He is most eager to review this book.”
Bear shrugged. He didn’t care.
It was human nature to want to fill the silence. In Bear’s line of work, he never offered more information than necessary. This man was an inexperienced criminal. He hadn’t learned the art of ignoring that “fill-in-the-blank” urge yet.
“Let’s do this,” Bear said.
He held out the journal with one hand. The man reached out and grabbed the notebook, but Bear didn’t release it. He flapped his fingers on his other hand for the envelope. “The money.”
Instead of placing the payment in Bear’s open hand, the client dropped it. The full envelope smacked the concrete.
Motherfucker.
“Oops.” The man didn’t sound sorry.
Bear glanced down at his money.
The man reached into his jacket, his face gleaned with sweat.
Bear froze, his scalp prickling. His heart stopped. Time slowed.
The man pulled a gun from his jacket. Before he aimed and pulled the trigger, a giant-ass bird swooped down from the trees with a shrill croak and sunk its talons into the man’s face.
That’s not Tasha.
The client shrieked and swatted at the raven, trying to bat the black bird away and stop it from tearing at his face.
Huh.
Bear hadn’t called for help. Interesting. He stood for half a second and studied the attack bird before shaking his head. He could dwell on the inconsistencies of his dark fae power later. He needed to get out of here first. With another glance to ensure the client was still occupied with saving his eyeballs, Bear crouched down and picked up the envelope. Double checking it held the correct amount, he pocketed the money and straightened.
The client still stumbled around nearby, flailing his arms. He’d dropped the gun in an attempt to defend himself from the tenacious bird. It lay on the ground a few feet away.
I’ll take that, thank you.
Bear reached down and plucked the weapon from the cold pavement. He had no intention of shooting the client or keeping the gun for his personal collection, but he didn’t want to leave it for the man to shoot him in the back either.
Bear checked the safety before shoving the gun into his waistband and pulling his shirt and jacket over the grip to hide it. He’d dispose of the weapon later.
When Bear approached the client, the raven released the man’s face and croaked a “fuck you” before disappearing into the night.
The client groaned and staggered. He had various scratches and cuts on his face and hands, but nothing requiring medical assistance. He would heal in a few weeks.
Bear didn’t give the man time to recuperate. He kicked him as hard as he could in the knee. The client cried out. His leg buckled and he bent over in pain.
Bear leaned down. “Think twice before you try to cross a thief again.” He drove his fist into the man’s face.
The client crumpled to the ground, knocked out but still breathing. Probably better than he deserved considering he’d come to the drop-off tonight intent on killing Bear.
Bear’s fist throbbed, but the discomfort was worth it. He’d make sure Eli knew this guy tried to double cross him. The guild wouldn’t take another contract from him and if they decided to really take exception, they’d place a price on his head.
Bear glanced at the notebook on the ground. Something about it called to him. He could take it with him. He had every right. But just as something lured him in, something else about the journal set him on edge. If he took it, there would be a ripple effect. He didn’t want to spend his life looking over his shoulder.
He picked up the notebook and dropped it on the client. A low keening sound emitted from the man but he remained face down on the pavement.
The phone in Bear’s pocket vibrated as he turned to leave. He pulled it free and answered as he stepped into the safety of the forest. He followed the hiking trail and made his way to the car. “This isn’t really a good time, Janice.”
Tasha swooped down and landed on his shoulder. Her talons dug into his leather jacket. She head-butted his cheek and he reached up to scratch her neck.
“I’ve been called many things before, but not that.” Eli’s deep voice sounded amused. “How’d the drop off go?”
“He tried to kill me.”
“As expected, then?” Eli’s tone was dry.
And that was what pissed off Bear. He knew the man would try something. He had expected it. Yet, the man’s ordinary appearance, whiney voice and inexperience lulled Bear into enough complacency that he’d caught Bear off-guard. Rookie mistake.
Now Bear wanted to go home, get warm and order takeout. He also had to feed the cat before she pooped in his shoes.
“Yeah,” he said, answering Eli even though his handler hadn’t asked a question. “What’s up?”
“I have another job for you.”