Laughter poured out from behind a beaded curtain. A woman walked out, and I caught a glimpse of something bright on the wrist of someone leaned back in a chair. The beads fell back, obscuring my view. I took another sip of my drink and walked to the doorway.

  A hand blocked me from passing through. I looked at the hand, then back up to the hulk of a man it was attached to. Judging by the unfortunate bushiness of his sideburns, I was guessing werebear. Those guys were practically unkillable, and definitely not the type I could beat in a fistfight.

  “VIP section only,” the werebear said, his voice gruff.

  I pulled out four ten-thousand-dollar bundles of cash. “Is this VIP enough for you?”

  The werebear narrowed his eyes and grabbed one. He pulled a single, hundred-dollar bill from the bundle and examined it to make sure it wasn’t a fake. He nodded in satisfaction, then snapped his fingers and pointed in my direction. A woman jogged over with a wooden case of chips.

  “All of it?” he asked, grabbing a handful of sleek, black chips to count out for us.

  “Yeah, twenty thousand for me, and the same for the lady,” I said, gesturing at Swift. The bear handed us each a stack of forty chips. I guess they bet big here.

  The bear reached back and parted the beaded curtain, waving us inside with a smirk. I stepped through, ready to see if my gamble would pay off.

  Twenty-Nine

  Frank was here, but the man was not looking well. He sat at the big table that dominated the room. I’d seen him around Seattle, and in mugshots, before. He was one hundred and seventy centimeters tall with broad shoulders and an abundance of chest hair that curled out of his button up shirt. Normally, he’d have a girl on each arm, but tonight he had a half-smoked cigar and a scowl.

  “You’re bluffing,” he said sourly, sliding two more chips into a healthy pot. I couldn’t see the face of the guy Frank was playing against, but he was clearly beating the socks off Frank.

  There were three other guys at the table, all Frank’s men. Every single one of them had folded, leaving the battle to their boss.

  The new guy wore a sleek black suit that was obviously new. It was expensive, but not custom, judging by the way it hung around his shoulders. Must be newly rich if he was wasting money on off-the-rack suits and gambling at a run-down place like this.

  He had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman sitting next to him. Her sleek black hair cascaded over his arm. She glanced back and looked directly at me, though no one else seemed to notice us. She wore a modern version of a kimono with a bright green pattern. I had thought Swift was beautiful when I first met her -- an impression that quickly changed -- but this woman was something else. Her delicate features were perfectly proportioned. Her kohl-lined eyes were a bright hazel, almost yellow in fact.

  “Bluffing, Frankie? That’s what you said last round,” the guy laughed, his voice younger than I expected.

  I cringed. Nobody called Frank Castiglione, Frankie. But Frank didn’t explode out of his seat and sock the guy. His men only twitched a little. Something weird was going on.

  Frank ground his teeth together. “Are you gonna bet or just sit here wasting my time?” he demanded, leaning back in his chair and taking a big puff of his cigar.

  The kid shrugged and matched the bet. “Let’s see who was bluffing,” he taunted.

  Frank flipped his cards over, showing a straight. It was a decent hand, especially with a table of five players. The kid just laughed and tossed his cards down on top of the pot. He had a full house.

  “Two in a row,” he said, scraping the chips toward his growing pile. “What are the odds?”

  Frank puffed on his cigar, his eyes narrowing. His thugs kept looking at him, waiting for the sign to act, but Frank didn’t budge. “Odds are low,” Frank said, his voice strangely calm.

  What was he waiting on to tear this guy apart? It was obvious he was cheating. No one ever got two full houses in a row. It just didn’t happen.

  I slipped my hand around Swift’s waist and strode forward. She resisted for a second, then realized my angle and followed along. I stopped behind the chair to the kid’s left. He wasn’t quite as young as his voice suggested, but he was still in his early twenties, at most. College-aged and clean-shaven. Definitely not the type you expected to see here.

  “Do you have room for two more?” I asked, setting my stack of chips on the table. Swift set hers down, as well, and beamed at the men, but her smile was lost on them. They weren’t looking at her face.

  I couldn’t help but stare at the woman next to him. Her eyes hadn’t left me since we walked in the room. I needed to focus, but I could already tell that was going to be a struggle.

  The kid leaned around me, checking out Swift. “There’s always room for a pretty lady,” he schmoozed. I had no idea why he was looking at anyone else while the yellow-eyed woman was sitting next to him. “And I guess you can join. I don’t mind taking your money too.”

  I pulled out Swift’s chair first, then sat down. Frank squinted at me. It was possible he recognized me. We hadn’t ever officially met, but he’d probably seen me around the same places I had seen him.

  The woman cracked open a fresh deck of cards and shuffled them with nimble fingers. She looked at Swift and smiled. It wasn’t friendly, more like she knew something Swift didn’t. I leaned back in my chair and looked at Swift. She had the same expression, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable trapped between them.

  “It’s nice to have another woman at the table,” she said, her tone implying the opposite as she quickly dealt the cards.

  “I’m sure the attention gets overwhelming when it’s just you,” Swift replied, her voice a sickly sweet tone I had not heard out of her before.

  The kid laughed loudly, looking back and forth between them, then nudged my shoulder. “Women, huh?”

  I looked down where he had wrinkled the sleeve of my suit and brushed it smooth. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, taking a sip of my drink.

  The kid cleared his throat and grabbed his cards off the table. His sleeve rode up a little revealing a diamond encrusted watch with a brand emblazoned on the face that screamed money.

  Frank and the others all looked at their hands, but I left my cards on the table. Poker was a game of luck, and bluffing. Based on the uneasy look the kid was giving me, this was the right strategy. I didn’t care if I won or lost, so the cards didn’t matter. Considering the guy next to me was cheating – though I’m not sure how – they mattered even less.

  This game was about getting information, and I could get that easier if I upset the balance of power at the table. Frank needed to win, that much was obvious. Because of that, the kid held all the power right now, but I was going to take that away from him.

  Frank started the betting, throwing a chip into the center of the table. Swift was next, and she matched his bet. The kid, of course, put in four chips with a sneer. The three goons folded immediately. At this point, I had to assume they were there as muscle, not to play.

  “Have we met before?” Frank asked me as he traded in two of his cards.

  I shrugged and waved the play over to the kid, leaving my cards untouched on the table. “I don’t think so,” I said, not quite lying.

  “Are you not even going to look at your cards?” the kid asked, drawing my attention away from Frank.

  “Is it bothering you?” I asked, raising a brow.

  The kid huffed in annoyance and traded out two cards. “I don’t care what you do. It’s your money, man.”

  The betting continued, and I took my measure of the other three players. Frank was smart, not too cautious, and not brash. Even losing this badly, he was mostly unruffled. Swift played a textbook, and boring, game of poker. She most likely had two or three of a kind; just enough to stay in the game, but nothing good enough to justify drawing the other players into a betting match. The kid just threw chips in like he was confident he’d get them back, which is a great way to make sure you get caught cheating – then get an ass beating.

  The play went around the table a couple more times. Impatient, the kid dumped enough chips in on his turn to make me raise a brow. Frank shook his head, but matched the bet and looked to Swift. She folded and leaned back in her chair. I pursed my lips, then shoved in half my chips.

  “Dude, you haven’t even looked at your cards. Is this some kind of bluff?” the kid asked.

  I took a drink before answering. “I’m just feeling lucky tonight.”

  The kid rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, as he pushed in enough chips to match my raise. “I call,” he said, grabbing his cards and flipping them over without waiting for me to show mine first. It was another full house. The odds of getting that hand three times in a row are fifty thousand to one. No one is that lucky.

  “Interesting how you keep getting those,” Frank said, smoke drifting from his chapped lips.

  “Poker is my game,” the kid responded, anger flashing in his eyes.

  I looked between them. There was some history there I didn’t understand. From the expression on Frank’s face, I didn’t think he understood what the kid was implying, either.

  I picked up my cards and flipped them over. It took a moment for the hand to register. It was a straight flush.

  “What the fuck,” the kid exclaimed, spreading my cards out farther to check them. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what? It’s just luck of the draw,” I said. He was more than surprised I had beat him. He was mad.

  He sat back in his chair and glared at the woman next to him. She was looking at me with a smile on her lips. Somehow, she had given me the winning hand this time. I still had no idea how they were cheating, though, or why she had gone against the instructions he had clearly given her.

  “Did you not expect anyone else to be able to win a hand?” Frank asked. The threat in his voice was clear. Whatever his reasons for sitting through the game, it was clear now that he had never planned on letting the kid walk out of here with a single dollar of his money.

  The kid slipped his hand into his pocket, and the woman stiffened, a flash of anger rolling over her features.

  “Normally, coming into a place like this, I’d expect to lose every hand. Just seems fair for the customers to win every now and then,” the kid said. The easy-going confidence was gone, replaced with anger and nerves.

  “What are you implying? You think I cheat my customers?” Frank asked, flicking the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray at his elbow.

  “Not implying, I’m stating it as a fact,” the kid said, shoving his chair back as he stood. He tried to pick up his chips, but Goon Number One grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard enough for the little bones to grind together. “Let go of my hand,” the kid snapped.

  Frank waved the man back, and he let go. “I think we should play another round, maybe with a new dealer.”

  “I’m not interested. Let’s go,” the kid snapped at the woman. She rose to her feet stiffly.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Frank said. He rose, his chair sliding back loudly on the scuffed floor. “You think I would just let you and your girlfriend stroll into my establishment and cheat us out of all our money, just because you requested her to deal?” His anger was clear now and some of the blanks had been filed in. “You will stay and sit with a new dealer, or you can leave in a wheelchair with shattered knees.”

  The kid took a step back, walking right into the werebear that had greeted us at the door. Swift stood as well, though I wasn’t sure whom she was planning on fighting.

  Eyes darting around like a cornered animal, the kid removed his hand from his pocket. He was clutching something tightly. The woman was staring at it like she wanted to rip it out of his hands. It all clicked in my head. She was a kitsune. And this was our murderer.

  “Kill them all,” the kid said, looking at the kitsune, “and use him to do it.” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder at the werebear.

  The woman disappeared in a fiery flash. The werebear shuddered, then growled as his eyes glowed yellow.

  Thirty

  I hated werebears, not in a bigoted sort of way, but in an I-hate-anything-that-can-kick-my-ass kind of way. That was the thought that flew through my mind as I was flung backward across the room. I hit the ground, and the little bit of air that was left in my lungs was forced out.

  I groaned and struggled back up to a sitting position. Pink magic blazed around Swift as she traded punches with the thing. He was half-shifted, fur sprouting from his face, and two-inch claws jutting out of his broad hands. He moved like a boxer, but Swift was all fury. It was hard to fight something like that. She clocked him on the jaw, and he actually stumbled back. I was reluctantly impressed; she was doing this in heels after all. Just how strong was she?

  I scanned the room for the kid, but he was long gone, lost in the rush of screaming people all trying to squeeze out the same door. I thought about chasing him down, anyhow, but Swift took a hit from the bear that knocked her flat on her back. I wouldn’t abandon my partner in a fight she was losing, even if I did want to be rid of her.

  Frank pulled a worn pair of brass knuckles from his pockets and slipped them on his calloused hands. “Pull yourself together, Ringo!” he shouted at the werebear as he leaped into the fray, getting two punches in before the bear turned and swatted him away like an annoying bug. He hit a table, crushing it, and didn’t move again.

  I grabbed my katana, but didn’t draw it. This werebear was a pain in my ass, but he was also a victim here. I couldn’t just kill him; I had to subdue him somehow. Swift dragged herself back up to her feet and began summoning her mace.

  “We need him alive, Swift!” I shouted. “Don’t crush his head.”

  “That was one time,” she shouted back at me with a snarl, “and I didn’t know he was being possessed at the time.” She leapt forward and kicked him in the back, disturbing the bear's pummeling of two of Frank’s goons.

  I charged in after her and kicked the bear from the opposite side. He roared in pain and swiped at me, but his attack was wide and slow. Swift jumped on his back, wrapping her mace around his throat. She squeezed, the muscles in her arms straining against the bulk of his neck. Damn, that’s hot. Why does she have to be my partner?

  Taking advantage of the distraction, I dropped to my knee and traced a rune on the ground. It glowed in a bright trail from my fingertip, the magic scorching into the wooden floor. One down, two to go.

  The bear swayed forward, trying to throw Swift off his back. She held on like a rabid raccoon and began to headbutt him from behind. Did I mention Berserker Mages are crazy?

  He roared and stumbled back. I darted around them and burned the second rune into the floor.

  The bear dropped to his hands and knees, reached back, and threw Swift into the wall. That had to hurt. His yellow eyes turned to me. I lunged to his right and got halfway through the final rune when he hit me like a battering ram.

  Unlike Swift, there was no room for me to fly back. His fist crushed me against the wall, and I could have sworn I heard a rib crack. He snarled, a gust of hot, stinky breath blowing over my face.

  “Eat a Tic Tac, you oversized Winnie the Pooh,” I shouted, as I got my feet under me, braced them against the wall, then pushed back with a tight grip on my katana. Mayhem magic, focused by the sword, fed power through my body. I couldn’t match his strength for long, but I was not about to die in this crappy bar squished against the wall like a cockroach.

  I took one step forward, then another. His boots slid back on the floor inch by inch. Swift appeared and punched him square in the eye, then kicked him between the legs. He dropped to his knees, his hands flying to his now sore fur balls.

  I grabbed Swift and dragged her back, then finished the rune with two sharp lines. Each of the three runes glowed bright red, then a crackling net of pure magic surged over the bear, pinning him to the ground.

  Swift wiped a line of blood away from her mouth. Her dress had ripped halfway up her thigh on the left side. “I hate werebears,” she muttered.

  “For once we agree,” I said, pushing myself back to my feet. Everything hurt.

  The bear strained at the crackling net, roaring loudly.

  “Oh, shut up,” Swift said. She struck him once, right behind his jaw. Her fist connected with a loud crack and the bear went limp.

  “Did you kill him?” I asked, watching his chest for signs of breathing as he slowly reverted to his human form.

  “No, of course not,” Swift said. The Berserker rage was gone, and she was back to looking appalled that I would ever suggest she might accidentally kill a civilian.

  “Is he still possessed?” I asked.

  Swift leaned down and pulled his eyelid open. The faint glow was still there. “I think he is.”

  “We need to try to interrogate him then, and possibly exorcise the kitsune after,” I said, pulling out my cell phone. “Viktor can help us if we can get the guy to the coroner’s building.”

  “What’s the point in interrogating him? Won’t he just keep trying to kill us?” Swift asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, thinking about everything that had happened during the game. “The kitsune doesn’t want to be doing this. I think she’ll find a way to help us.”

  “Maybe,” Swift said, glaring at the bear.

  I smirked and dialed the pickup service. We needed to do this as soon as possible.

  Thirty-One

  The werebear banged around inside the transport vehicle. It was built for supernaturals; it could hold a vampire, shifter, and even a mage. I still kept a close eye on it, as the entire vehicle shook from the bear’s escape attempts.

  Viktor walked outside, looking pale in the sunlight. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him outside. He preferred the company of the dead in the morgue.

  The necromancer raised a brow and crossed his burly arms, straining the seams of his white lab coat. “You have brought me something still alive? I am a coroner, not a babysitter,” he said, glancing at the werebear with distaste.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17