Kite’s teeth closed around Eli’s lower lip. She bit down. Eli cried out. Kite pulled back, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Blood mixed with the berry juice on both of their mouths, dripping over their chins.
“Blood keeps us together,” whispered Kite. Eli nodded.
Kite had pushed her back into the revelry and vanished. The lights and sound and touch swallowed Eli into a whirlwind of chaos and life.
Where had Kite gone when she’d disappeared from the children’s celebrations? When she could not be found for weeks and weeks, and Eli had missed her so desperately it hurt? Why was Kite always at the edges of the play?
Eli would not have the answers to these questions for some time.
Nine
Eli drove quickly, circling closer and closer to the heart of the city. She was a hawk hunting her prey.
This knowledge soothed her wicked heart.
She ditched the bike on a narrow side street. She didn’t have much time before Tav came for it — especially if they had tracking activated on their phone. Humans were so easy to steal from. Tav hadn’t even noticed Eli slip her hand in their jacket at the café. Maybe that would teach them to stop trusting strangers. Sliding off of the leather seat, Eli pulled the iPhone out of her pocket and prayed Tav had a good data plan.
Of course they did. All the kids did these days — at least, the ones who could afford motorcycles. Tav was playing bad, wearing the trappings of rebellion. Eli had seen lots of people like that, who thought ink tattoos were permanent and spiked collars made them dangerous. They’d never experienced real danger; or, if they had, they wouldn’t have recognized it. Humans couldn’t sense ghosts, which is why it was up to witches to track these traces of wild magic before they fed on every living thing and upset the delicate balance between worlds.
Tav was nothing special. Just a spoiled kid with a toy, pretending to be a soldier. That’s what Eli told herself as she pushed the image of Tav’s wounded face out of her mind’s eye. Focus on the job.
She wondered how close Tav was to catching her. The thrill of being chased heightened her senses, making her a better predator.
She typed in “Virginia White” and the internet spat out an address. Somewhere in the suburbs: unusual for a ghost to go that far from the busy downtown streets but not unheard of. Possibly this one was new and hadn’t yet migrated to the city centre.
Unless it’s old and powerful — smart enough to hide from the hunters.
She shook her head, trying to lose the thought. Her mind was a snow globe with memories and worries and desires drifting haphazardly.
She checked the glamour that Circinae had cast on her knives. Usually Eli got Kite to check it, to reinforce the enchantment when it started to tear, but she hadn’t remembered this time. She’d been too angry. Hopefully it would last long enough for her to finish the job undetected.
Kite. The echo of the last words Eli had spoken to her rang in her ears, and a twinge of guilt flicked up Eli’s spine. Go back to your people and leave me alone.
She shoved the guilt away. Kite had made her decision. She’d made it that day she hadn’t come, when she’d left Eli waiting alone on the island. When she pretended that all of their escape plans had been child’s play. A game.
Kite had left the Children’s Lair and joined the Coven. Told Eli nothing would change, but she’d lied. Everything was different now. She rarely saw Kite, and when the Heir became the Witch Lord, they would not even have those brief moments together.
Kite had a choice, and she’d chosen the witches. Chosen wrong.
No, she’d been right. They had both needed to grow up.
The scuffed loafer falling off a limp foot.
Murderer.
Eli forced her painful memories away, frustrated at her spiralling thoughts. Do the job.
She ordered an Uber to take her to the suburbs, then tossed the phone into the street. Her own face stared back at her in the cracked glass, split into pieces. Reluctantly, she said goodbye to the bike and headed to the restaurant where she’d ordered the car. Pick-ups in back alleys always looked suspicious.
The car pulled up: white, dirty, and inconspicuous. Perfect. Eli climbed in.
“How’s your night going?” asked the driver, an East Asian man with a French-villain-meets-hipster moustache. He looked to be around her age. Eli tried not to stare at his moustache.
“Not great.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Eli shrugged. “It’s fine. Just … work stuff.”
“Bad day?”
“Coworker drama.”
“That’s the worst.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you up tonight? Something more fun?”
“Not really. Visiting a colleague. A different one. It’s a work thing. Dinner.”
“Early dinner,” he commented. Eli felt a surge of anger at his inane questions, and her inability to answer them.
“Her kids have soccer practice later.”
“Ah.”
They drove in silence for a while, and Eli had to stop herself from tapping her fingernails on the window anxiously. She wanted this over with.
He pulled up outside the address Eli had given him — a few houses away from the hit. “Be careful,” he told her.
“At dinner?”
He played with his moustache. “You want me to wait for you? Ubers don’t always want to come out this far. Might be hard to get a ride back.”
Eli felt a spike of worry. “What are you saying?” Her hand curled around the door handle, ready to run.
“I’m saying humans aren’t entirely useless. Some of us are hired to help, okay?”
Reeling with the implications — Who had hired him? How did he know who she was? — Eli managed to snap back, “You leave a car here and the cops will find us immediately. So, no, you’re not helping.”
“Find someone who isn’t an Uber driver? Driving a car he doesn’t own? They can try.” He smiled and tapped a thumb against the steering wheel. “You’d better get going. I guess I won’t be here to take you back then. You’re on your own from here.”
“I’m always on my own. And I don’t need your help.”
“What makes you so sure those things are true?” He raised an eyebrow, obviously pleased to have knowledge that an assassin didn’t. The arrogance of humans never failed to amaze and exasperate her.
Grunting in response, Eli pulled the handle and then kicked the door open viciously. The metal of the car groaned, threatening to come apart.
“Careful!”
“Why do you care? I thought it wasn’t your car.”
He made eye contact for the first time, and when he spoke, the confidence had drained from his voice. “I’ve never met one like you before.”
“Deadly and a great sense of humour?”
“You just seem so … human.”
Eli didn’t respond to that, just slid out of the car and closed the door silently to make up for her temper tantrum.
He rolled down the window. “Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”
He laughed like she was joking, but she wasn’t. He had answers, and she was going to hunt him down and get them.