2

  Scene #1: It’s On

  The snow glinted off the North Shore mountains, a perfect day for spring skiing. When was the last time I had the chance to do that? Feel the wind on my face, the sound of snow crunching under foot and my mind free of everything except the exhilaration of flying down that run?

  Miles snapped his fingers. “Did you hear me?”

  Sighing, I turned around away from my view and back to the reality of my office that some days felt more like a prison. “Yeah. Shut her down.”

  “How far are we taking this? She used your credit card.”

  I bet she did. Ashira Cohen had made it her life’s mission to rile me up at every opportunity. “It would serve her right to haul her ass in on fraud charges.”

  Miles crossed his arms, the motion causing the leather sofa to creak. “Except we both know you won’t, because that would mean giving up this twisted whatever-the-fuck-it-is that you two are permanently stuck in. You aren’t thirteen anymore, Levi. Are you really that hard up for thrills? You do remember who you are, right?”

  I gave a soft laugh. “Hard to forget. Deactivate the account. I’ll email her. Ash bends a lot of laws but flagrantly engaging in fraud is out of character. There’s been no harm to our community, so she gets one chance to explain herself.”

  Grumbling, Miles left.

  I pulled up my mail program and began to compose my response. It took three drafts to achieve the perfect wording.

  Dear Ms. Cohen,

  3

  It is truly an honor and a delight that you, a private investigator of some renown, take such an interest in our House database that you created a platinum-level profile to mine our resources. While getting hold of my credit card number to pay for the aforementioned account (Hello, Priya) was a nice touch, that constitutes fraud and theft and you have been shut down.

  Out of respect for our longtime acquaintance, and the fact that it’s no fun trampling on the little people, I am generously willing to put aside all thoughts of prosecution. Should you wish to actually pay me, and may I clarify I mean in legal tender, not IOUs, eggs, or sexual favors, none of which hold any appeal, House Pacifica will, of course, be happy to review your application for a legitimate account.

  Sincerely,

  Levi Montefiore

  Head, House Pacifica

  This was going to drive her batshit. Grinning, I hit send. Ma vaffanculo, Miles was right.

  If this email was the highlight of my day, I needed to get a life. I glanced at the time. Another few hours and then it was over to the gala at the aquarium. Yet another Friday night doing something because it was expected as House Head. Fun was a scarcity in my world.

  I rolled up my shirtsleeves. Work beckoned.

  As always.

  The afternoon went by in a blur. Before shutting down for the night, I checked my email one last time to find that Ash had responded.

  Dear Exalted Leader,

  (not mine thankfully)

  4

  Allow me to refresh your memory about the cocktail night fundraiser at Science World shortly after New Year’s that I was unfortunate enough to see you at. It’s hardly my fault that you have both an ugly competitive side and a shit throw and failed to beat me at the water ball toss. Owing me exactly $1537, you handed me your credit card and loftily told me to “go nuts and drink my boozy heart out.”

  You always did have such a way with words, Mr. Montefiore. If you would care to check your credit card statement and your memory, you would recall that I never purchased said drinks. Instead, I told you that I wanted access to the House database and while you smirked like the condescending ass that you are, you did not specifically say no.

  Thus, I transferred the balance of $1537 owed to me into setting up top-tier access to House Pacifica records, the total of which was $1200 for the year.

  Please reinstate my account and remit the difference of $337 immediately to my office address. Interest will accrue on any outstanding amounts over thirty days.

  Sincerely,

  Ashira Cohen

  I hit delete. The unmitigated gall of that woman. I fired off a text to Miles. Block all access to House records for A.C. Permanently.

  But damn, if I didn’t half-grin at the laptop when I left.

  Scene #2: Going Rogue

  So far I’d won $2 million and change in bets with myself of how every conversation of the night would go. At least the representative from the non-profit we were here to raise funds for, was quietly effusive of the House’s pledged donation. I texted Veronica to anonymously

  5

  match it from my personal account. The only reason I’d challenged my predecessor for House Head was to do good in this world–and yeah, spite was a valid reason for altruism. These days, though, I felt mired in red tape and a Sisyphean despair.

  I kept my smile in place and made the rounds. Same faces. Same jokes.

  The woman in red was an oasis in a desert of banality. Her exposed back was to me, a spill of dark hair over one shoulder. She stood facing one of the jellyfish tanks, as if the rest of the room was of no consequence.

  “Levi?”

  I blinked, scrambling to remember what Dr. Davis had been saying. My eyes drifted back to the woman, who toasted the tank with what looked like straight whiskey. Not a chardonnay glass or ridiculously named shot in sight.

  “Hell of a tee off,” I said. Davis had been nattering on about his golf game, and I’d heard some version of this conversation a half dozen times. “Can you excuse me?”

  A sudden urgency propelled me toward this stranger. It might be foolish, but I didn’t want her to slip away into the crowd. An air of promise surrounded her.

  I stopped far back enough that she could hear me over din, but not so much that I’d intimidate her with my presence. “A woman with a back that would make a goddess weep and a taste for whiskey untainted by Coke. A rare dichotomy.”

  She turned around, her glass extended, and Satan’s smile on her face. “If you start right now, you might be able to blame the fact that you hit on me on your ‘drinking your boozy heart out.’”

  The world fell apart, tried to rearrange itself into something making logical sense at Ashira being the woman in question. It failed miserably.

  6

  “Why are you wearing that dress?” It fell like water over her hips. Ash had curves? I’d been happier without that knowledge.

  “I left my sackcloth and ashes at home. Sorry to disappoint. You drinking yourself out of total humiliation? No?” She shrugged and shot back her drink before shoving the glass at me like I was the help. “Do a woman a mitzvah and take this away while you troll for the night’s entertainment elsewhere.”

  I handed it off–hopefully to a server–still trying to compute the situation, while she levelled that smug little smirk at me which I’d hated since the day I first met her. I narrowed my eyes, my lips pursed. “Are you undercover?”

  She knew the laws about Mundane private investigators working Nefesh cases, and if she thought to play fast and loose with them–again–I’d shut her down so fast, her head would spin.

  Or at least knock that damn smirk off her face.

  “In a floor-length ‘come fuck me’ red dress with no visible panty line?” she said.

  As if possessed, my eyes zoomed in on her ass. Fucking hell. I moved them somewhere safer–her eyes.

  She was scowling. Much better. “If I was,” she said, “would you declare this gala Nefesh territory and mess up my case?”

  Typical. She couldn’t see that rules existed for a reason. That she had to heed them the same as the rest of us. That she couldn’t keep trampling wherever she wanted, upending everything.

  I raised an eyebrow. “If you didn’t have the right to work it, then yeah. In a heartbeat.”

  “The husband was Nefesh,” she said, “but his wife, my client, who he was cheating on, was Mundane. I had every right to get proof of his infidelity.”

  7

  A server offered us some cheese laden appetizer. I refused it. Ash didn’t, casually accepting it as her due. Just like she did with everything.

  “It’s too dangerous for Mundanes to go after Nefesh,” I said.

  “Mundanes are dangerous, too. We have these things called guns. They kill people. No magic required.” She licked goat cheese off her lip, so convinced she had the moral high ground.

  “And here’s another revelation,” she said. “While we were both assholes when we were younger, the difference is that I grew out of it.”

  The gospel according to Ash. Not recognizing the difference between being an asshole and having responsibilities. I bit back my first retort, smiling in greeting at Mr. and Mrs. Kim, owners of a thriving general contractor business. The second they’d moved on, I leaned in to Ash.

  “No,” I said, “the difference is, I became responsible for an entire community while you kept thinking you should be allowed to do whatever you want.”

  She flushed hotly and stomped off like a petulant child, pushing her way through the crowd. I took a petty moment to enjoy her lack of progress before I headed after her. In that mood, she’d end up hurting someone.

  “Go away, Levi,” she snapped. “I’m not in the mood for your insults.”

  “You’re flushed and clearly dizzy. Maybe rethink your plan to become a functioning alcoholic.” I caught her elbow, steering her to the exit so she could cool down.

  Ash pulled free the second we got outside.

  I strolled behind her, taking a deep lungful of cool air and bathing in the warm glow of the colored lanterns placed at regular intervals.

  8

  She wobbled like she was drunk, but I’d swear she was nowhere close. A migraine? I picked up the pace, almost bumping into her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the viewing platform above the dolphin pool and white-knuckled the metal railing.

  “Ash.”

  She spun around, wild-eyed, then blinked rapidly and looked away, gagging.

  Ash would react as well to compassion from me as dynamite to a match, so I didn’t bother with sympathy.

  “You’re not having a seizure, are you?” I said.

  She flexed her fingers, the drop of blood on one tip morphing into a–

  My mouth fell open as she jabbed the item into my chest, knocking me off-balance. “Did you just–that’s–that’s a dildo,” I said. “You hit me with a magic dildo?”

  “It’s a sword,” Ash said.

  “It’s a fucking cock that you conjured up. You’re Nefesh?”

  Ashira Cohen was a Rogue. In my territory. Of all the fuck yous she’d ever thrown my way, this one was unforgiveable. I was going to end her.

  “As if,” she said blithely. “I thought I’d liven up this snoozefest with a giant dick. The sword, I mean. Not you. I’ve been carrying it in my dress this whole time waiting for the right moment to spring it. Hilarious, huh?”

  “Right. You carried it in your floor-length ‘come fuck me’ dress with no visible panty line.”

  “I have a bra.” She stepped backward, but I clutched her shoulders.

  “Answer me!”

  9

  She threw me to the ground, her knee digging into my chest and a blood red dagger at my throat. She’d magically changed the dildo into a blade.

  That was–No. This was a matter for the authorities. I pushed up against her to get to my phone but she didn’t budge. The blade rasped against my skin.

  Ash sucked in the faintest breath and scrambled to her feet.

  I rose as well, watching her warily.

  She pressed the tip of the blade to my shirt. “Are you going to kill me?”

  I glanced down at my attire. “In this suit? It’s Armani. But I do want to know exactly what the fuck is going on.”

  If I didn’t know her better, I’d have bought the panic that flashed across her face. Ash didn’t panic. She gave the world the finger and sailed on her merry way.

  The dagger collapsed on itself, blood splashing onto my shirt.

  Ash spun sharply and fled.

  The world turned red, fracturing and swirling around me. I took a deep breath, forcing down my magic and willing reality to return to normal. What a joke. I hadn’t caught on to her having magic in fifteen years. What else had I missed?

  By the time, I got back inside, a low-level illusion masking the damage to my clothing and a smile masking the fury that swirled cold and sharp inside me, she was gone.

  Given her subpar crowd navigation skills, she hadn’t gotten far.

  I found her outside, limping along determinedly toward a taxi. It was the most pathetic getaway attempt ever.

  I nodded at my limo. She’d not just skirted the line, she’d blatantly pissed all over it. Her secret was out and now she’d pay.

  10

  Simon, my driver pulled the car quietly out from the shadows.

  “Get in,” I said to Ash.

  She ignored me so I pushed past her and sent the taxi on its way, cutting off her options. I pointed to the limo.

  “I don’t get in cars with strange men,” she said. The idiot was shivering, in bare feet, on the wrong side of the law, and she still looked at me with a challenge on her face.

  “You’ve known me for years.”

  “Strange. Not strangers.” Her skin was dotted with goosebumps. “You’ve got blood all over your shirt. You could be a serial killer.”

  “I want answers,” I said.

  “Forty-two, Miss Scarlet in the pool room with the wrench, and General George Washington.”

  “About the fact you’re a Rogue.”

  “Don’t forget that I’m also ‘on the lam.’ I’m headin’ for the county line.” She said the latter in a stupid redneck accent.

  A muscle ticked in my jaw.

  Ash patted my cheek. “Careful, Leviticus. You might break something.”

  “Get in the damn limo.” I held on to my control by my fingertips.

  “Fine.” She was half-blue with cold.

  I draped my suit jacket over her shoulders as she slid inside.

  Ash wrapped it around herself like a cocoon. “Compassion?”

  “Hardly. Can’t have you dying before I torture you.”

  11

  She made herself comfortable, but she was obviously still freezing so I grabbed some premium Jack Daniels from one of the side panels and poured it into two tumblers.

  I held one out to her. “Sip.”

  She accepted the offering like a skittish cat about to puff out her fur and bare her claws.

  “Were you banking on me showing you mercy when you got caught?” I said.

  “Heaven forbid.” She took a sip, relaxing slightly. “How long have you known me?

  About fifteen years? Five of them spent together every summer at camp. You really think I’m so talented I was able to deliberately hide magic all this time? And why, huh? What possible motivation could I have?”

  “Your mother.”

  Ash shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, that would have been a good one.”

  I swirled the whiskey. “But you’re right, you’re not that talented. At the same time, if you haven’t had magic all these years, then explain to me how you’re the exception to the fact that all Nefesh are born with magic and how you possess blood magic when that doesn’t exist?”

  She started and tossed back the rest of the drink. Did she not realize I’d figured out her magic?

  “I’m a special unicorn?” She held out her glass for a refill but I plucked it out of her hand.

  “I take my position as House Head very seriously. And that means enforcing laws that will keep my people safe. I’ve got no tolerance for Rogues.” My grip tightened on the tumblers and I carefully put them down so they didn’t shatter. “You’ve got two chances. Slim and none.

  Convince me that you haven’t been Rogue all these years or I’ll prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”

  12

  She brushed some dirt off of her dress. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  Was she fucking kidding me? “This isn’t a negotiation.”

  “You think anyone is going to believe that you knew me all these years and didn’t know about my magic? ‘Why did you keep her off the books, Mr. Montefiore? Was she running black ops for you? Or were you simply making exceptions for a friend?’” She met my eyes coolly.

  Rogue, blackmail. This was almost entertaining. How many other laws would she break to squirm her way out of this. “Your point?”

  “Tonight was as much a shock to me as to you. I want the chance to unravel this mystery.” She twisted around, showing me a tattoo of a Star of David on the back of her skull.

  “I don’t give a damn that you’ve found religion.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Someone inked that on me and I only found out earlier today. Hours before I discovered that I had magic.” She let her hair fall back over one elegant shoulder. “I don’t know why or how it never manifested before, but I want to find out. This may be a point of law for you, Levi, but it’s my life. I’m a damn good private investigator. Let me put the pieces of this puzzle together, because what if I wasn’t the only person this was done to? That would have huge repercussions for your House.”

  Speaking of my House, we turned a corner and there it was. A few hours ago, I’d felt stifled here, but in the face of this treachery, all my protective instincts went into high gear.

  Nobody fucked with my community.

  “Do we have a deal?” she said.

  “No. I don’t take kindly to blackmail. Or half-baked lies. Tell whatever story you like.”

 

1 2 3 4