“Never mind that. Someone’s coming, Sorsha. I can feel it. Wear these, and we’ll go.” She grabbed her sparkly sneakers off the shoe rack and shoved them at me. As I tugged them on, they pinched my toes. Her feet were at least a size smaller than mine.
“Are you sure we’re actually in danger?” I whispered as she eased the door open. The only real concern my self-centered sixteen-year-old brain could process was: where the hell were we going to go now? “We’ve moved how many times already, and no one’s ever—”
She tugged me with her outside, ignoring my protests. As Luna crossed the lawn, I stopped to try to wriggle my feet more solidly into the shoes. When I looked up, she’d reached the sidewalk—and several figures sprang at her from the night.
Whips that seemed formed of light slashed through the air; a blade flashed; someone hurled a glinting net. Luna whirled around with a shocked squeal. The bindings squeezed tight around her skinny form before I could so much as cry out. Her body shuddered—and then burst into a firework of sparks.
I jolted awake with my shriek still locked in my throat. The air around me was glittering, but it was the gleam of sunlight through crystal, not the sparkly shattering of my guardian’s death. Sunlight through several crystals, actually—there were about a dozen of them dangling from silver chains in front of the window in the little cabin we’d found not too far outside of town.
The clang of horror faded from my nerves. I rubbed my forehead and sat up, but my stomach stayed clenched.
The fae woman I’d called Auntie Luna—the woman who’d saved me from the hunters who’d murdered my parents, who’d given me the best mortal childhood a shadowkind could, who’d never made me feel anything less than unreservedly loved—had died more than eleven years ago. I hadn’t dreamed about that night in ages. It brought the same old questions back to nibble at me: if I’d just moved a little faster, left my own freaking shoes somewhere I could easily put my feet into like she’d reminded me a million times…
But all those what ifs didn’t change the fact that she’d died at the hands of attackers with the same weapons the sword-star crew used, at least one of those weapons marked with that sword-star symbol. I might have screwed up, but they were the ones who’d killed her. While I couldn’t change anything I’d done back then, there was plenty I could do to make them regret their life choices now.
They weren’t going to get away with what they’d done to her or any of the other shadowkind. Including Omen, as big of an asshole as he could be. On the balance of things, I’d take him over the men with whips and nets any day.
Rolling my shoulders carefully to test the injured one, I got up. It appeared the property we’d ended up on had once been used for New Age-y retreats. Along with the crystals, three bunk beds were crammed into the single open-concept room between posters with nature photos and encouraging phrases like, “Believe in the sunshine of your spirit!” We’d found a heap of rolled yoga mats in the shed outside. But based on the dust that had coated nearly every surface and the weeds choking the driveway, no one had made use of the place in months, if not years.
I stepped out into the yard where Omen had parked the Oldsmobile under the shelter of an oak tree hung with fraying dreamcatchers. They swayed in the warm morning breeze. In that first second, it appeared I was alone on the property. Then my four shadowkind friends shimmered from the shadows into the daylight.
They didn’t look all that friendly. Omen’s mouth was set in a tight smile, his gaze holding its usual chill as it came to rest on me. The other three were watching him. Thorn stood with muscles tensed, his frown even deeper than usual, and Ruse’s expression looked uncharacteristically serious. Snap’s eyes had widened with worry.
“There’s no need for all this fuss,” Omen said, clearly picking up the thread of a conversation they’d been having out of my hearing. “If she’s half as competent as you’ve spent so much time trying to convince me she is, she’ll handle this without any trouble at all.”
“But we shouldn’t be trying to make things harder for Sorsha,” Snap protested.
I walked over, raising my eyebrows. “What exactly am I supposed to be handling that’s so very hard?”
Ruse’s lips twitched as the incubus no doubt thought up a few suggestive remarks he could make in response, but he settled for a subdued smirk. Omen lifted his chin with the authoritarian air that was getting on my nerves more each day.
“We’re attempting to turn the tables on our enemies at the hand-off tomorrow evening,” he said. “Enemies who’ve already proven themselves very skilled at overwhelming us. If you’re going to play any part in the ambush, I want to be sure your mortal clumsiness won’t ruin our chances.”
If I was so clumsy, he was lucky I didn’t trip right now and accidentally ram my knee into his junk. But sure, he hadn’t seen me in action—maybe it was understandable for him to be skeptical. I’d just bash that skepticism into the stratosphere, and if he was still being a jerk after that, then we’d see where my knee ended up.
I shrugged. “Fine. Hit me with your best shot.”
Omen swept his arm toward the other men. “You see. She doesn’t require your protection.”
“She does occasionally take on more than even a shadowkind would think is wise,” Thorn muttered. To be fair, it was true that he might not have needed to save me from any bullets if I hadn’t insisted on handling that job alone.
“I’m sure Omen doesn’t have anything too horrifying in mind,” I said, and smiled sweetly at the other guy. “Do you?”
Omen gave me an expression even more openly disdainful than usual. “We’ll start with this: my colleagues and I will take Betsy into the city. You will make your own way there, by whatever means you can come up with. I expect to see you at the Finger no later than noon.”
It was a trip of nearly a hundred miles, and it was already past nine. Ruse tsked with teasing disapproval. “I did hear you like to play hardball with the mortals, Luce.”
“Luce?” I repeated.
“Short for Lucifer.” Ruse cocked his head toward Omen. “Not that the actual prince of Hell actually exists—or Hell itself the way humans conceive of it, for that matter—but from what I understand, our boss here used to make a game out of convincing mortals he held the title.”
Omen cut his icy eyes toward the incubus. “That was a long time ago and is hardly relevant. I’d rather you did away with the nickname.”
“But it suits you so well. You even have the tai—”
“Enough!” Omen barked. “You’re wasting her time.” His tawny hair rippled, a few tufts rising. So, there were a few topics that could get Bossypants emotional. Interesting.
And what had Ruse been going to say he had? The memory rose up of the tail with the devilish tip I’d caught a glimpse of when Omen had sprung from his prison cell in beastly form. Maybe that was the shadowkind feature he kept even in human form—the slacks he was wearing were loose enough to conceal it.
I yanked my gaze from Omen’s behind to his face before it became too noticeable that I was checking out his ass, as fine an ass as it was. Such a pity it was attached to a massive jerk.