I’d used singing against Finch a few times to get my own way when we were younger – until Mom and Dad found out and grounded me for a whole month. I’d also endured a lecture about taking advantage of my brother, who had already suffered too much in his young life.
When I was nine, my parents rescued Finch after they busted a ring of traffickers. Because of their size and exotic beauty, sprites were often illegally sold as pets on the black market. Finch’s parents had been sold off already, leaving the one-year-old sprite orphaned and traumatized. The traffickers had clipped his gossamer wings to prevent him from flying away, and there was no way he would survive on his own or be accepted by other sprites in Faerie. So, Mom and Dad brought him home to live with us.
In the beginning, Finch was so terrified and grief-stricken he wouldn’t eat or let anyone near him. For the first week, we’d all feared he would die. But with time and a lot of TLC, he recovered and warmed up to us. Sprites lived in trees in Faerie, so Dad built him his own tree house in our living room, complete with a ladder because Finch could no longer fly.
Sprites couldn’t vocalize human words, so they were often thought to be of lesser intelligence. But I knew from firsthand experience that they were extremely smart. Finch understood our language just fine, and it had been easy for him to learn sign language. He’d actually picked it up faster than we had. Now, he communicated with us using ASL and a series of whistles. He might not be human, but he was as much a part of this family as any of us.
I played five more songs before I laid down the guitar, and we went to the living room to watch a movie. He picked out the one he wanted, and we lay on the couch together.
I didn’t remember falling asleep. Hours later, I sat upright on the couch, looking around in confusion. A familiar song filled the room, and I reached for my phone, which was on the coffee table. It was Mom’s ringtone – Bad to the Bone – and I blearily wondered why on earth she was calling me at this ungodly hour.
“Hello?” I rasped.
Instead of a reply, I got an earful of garbled sounds. I thought I could hear voices in the background, but they were too indistinct to make out the words.
“Mom?” I said, but there was no response.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “You have to stop butt dialing me. This is bordering on child abuse.”
I pressed the button to end the call at the same time that a muffled scream came from the phone. My fingers froze on the screen.
What the hell was that?
My first reaction was to call her back, but I stopped myself before I hit the button. Bounty hunting could be messy and dangerous. Mom had probably dialed me by accident in the middle of a capture, and calling her would only distract her, especially if she saw it was me.
They’re fine, I told myself. We’d have a good laugh about this tomorrow.
I turned off the lights and made my way to bed. Rolling onto my side, I closed my eyes and willed my body to relax, despite the unease that had stolen over me. Eventually, my mind calmed, and I slipped back into sleep.
Chapter 2
They didn’t come home.
I’d woken up at seven, expecting Mom and Dad to be here, but the apartment was quiet and their bed hadn’t been slept in. I’d showered, made breakfast for Finch and me, and cleaned up. Still, there was no sign of our parents.
It wasn’t unusual for them to stay out overnight on a job, but they always called to let me know they wouldn’t be home. Always. No exception.
The clock on the mantle chimed noon. I should have heard from them by now.
I tried Dad’s phone first, then Mom’s, and both went straight to voice mail. I swallowed dryly. There was no one more capable of taking care of themselves than my parents. Maybe I was overreacting, but I couldn’t wait any longer.
My parents’ office was nothing more than a small bedroom that served as a work space and a storage area for all the weapons and tools of their trade. On one side of the room was the desk, bookcase, and filing cabinets, everything neat and in its place. This was Mom’s domain. She managed all the finances and administrative side of the business. Dad was the tactical and information expert, and he managed everything in those areas. He knew more about weapons, combat, and the Fae than anyone else I knew.
I went to the desk and sat in the chair. Ignoring the computer, I opened the top drawer and pulled out the address book Mom kept all their contacts in. She had them on the computer, but she often said you should never put all your trust in technology that could fail on you at any time.
She was right. A few years back, a hobgoblin went on a rampage in Manhattan, and his magic took out every computer in a city block before a group of hunters, led by my parents, caught him. We had iron grounding rods on the roof to protect our building against that, but Mom wasn’t taking any chances.
Finch jumped up onto the desk, startling me. I almost scolded him until I saw the worry in his eyes. He whistled and signed, Mom and Dad?
“They’ll be home soon,” I told him, wishing I knew that were true. “I’m just going to call around to some of their friends.”
By friends, I meant their fellow bounty hunters in the area. Most hunters worked in pairs, but they sometimes teamed up to help each other out on difficult jobs. And they watched each other’s backs. Thankfully, Mom had them all clearly marked in her address book.
I spent the next hour calling every one of Mom’s contacts. I couldn’t reach a few of them, but no one I spoke to had seen either of my parents in the last two days, except for Phil Griffin. He was the one Dad had helped on that banshee job yesterday. Phil didn’t sound too worried when I told him they hadn’t come home. I had to bite back a retort when he said I shouldn’t concern myself with these matters and that my parents knew what they were doing.
After I’d exhausted all their local contacts, I dialed Maurice’s number. Last I’d heard, he was somewhere in the Everglades on a big job, but he would want me to call him. I wasn’t surprised when I got his voice mail, and I left him a message detailing everything that had happened since yesterday. He’d call me back as soon as he got my message, whenever that was.
The last person I called was Levi Solomon. I didn’t know what job Mom and Dad were working on, but it had to be one of Levi’s. If anyone knew where my parents were, it was their bond agent.
Feeling hopeful, I dialed his number.
“Hello?” rumbled a gravelly voice that sounded like its owner smoked two packs of cigarettes a day.
“Hi, Mr. Solomon,” I replied, all businesslike. “I’m Jesse James. Patrick and Caroline James are my parents.”
That’s right. My name is Jesse James. I could thank my dad and his obsession with old westerns for that.
There was a short pause before Levi Solomon cautiously asked, “What can I do for you?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, um…I was wondering if you know where my parents are. They went out on a job last night and didn’t come home.”
“Sometimes bounty hunters stay out all night,” he said with a note of impatience. “It’s part of the job.”
“Yes, but they always let me know if they won’t be home.” Dread coiled in my stomach as I told him about the strange call I’d gotten from Mom last night.