Ilona Andrews - Fate's Edge

To the right, a giant of a man, pale like an albino, loomed over the blueblood’s head. A woman came to stand next to him, slender, dark-haired, with pale gray eyes and skin the color of orange peel. A bald man stepped forward, carrying Tamica, one hand around her waist, the other on her throat, carrying her horizontally, like she weighed nothing. Tamica’s hazel eyes stared at Kaleb in silent panic.

For the first time in his life, Kaleb seriously considered prayer.

The blueblood woman looked at him. He saw the slit pupils contract in her emerald irises. An enhanced blueblood. This was bad. This was extremely bad.

“Are you Kaleb Green, the fence?”

His throat had gone dry like a shriveled-up leaf. Somehow, he made the words come out. “I am much more than a simple fence.”

The blueblood arched her perfect eyebrows. “Are you familiar with your competitors?”

“Of course.”

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a purse. For a moment, she let it dangle from her long fingers, sheathed in leather gloves, and Kaleb wondered what her hands looked like. Then the purse landed on his desk with a telltale metallic clink, and he focused on it.

The woman raised her hand. “Killian.”

The bald man jerked Tamica up. His mouth gaped open, the lower jaw unhinging like the gaping maw of a snake. His lips circled back, baring huge triangular teeth.

“No!” Kaleb gasped.

Tamica screamed.

The man bit Tamica’s throat, ripping out half of her neck with his teeth. Blood drenched the floor. Her scream died in mid-note. The man bit again, tearing out red flesh and shreds of muscle, and dropped Tamica’s body on the floor. It dropped with a soft thud onto his prized carpet.

“I require your services,” the blueblood woman said. “If you agree, the money is yours. If you refuse, I’ll skin you alive.”

He was still frozen. Move, you moron. Do something, or you’ll be next.

The blueblood woman watched him, waiting.

Kaleb licked his lips. His voice came out hoarse. “What can I do for you, my lady?”

The albino giant stepped aside. A woman with pale skin tinted with a sickly shade of green approached his desk, carrying an enormous book. She flipped the pages, and he stared at the photograph of himself, complete with his name, contact information, and a short list of his accomplishments. Kaleb’s heart hammered faster. He’d never seen it, but he’d heard of it. This was Gnome’s book. If the Hand had it, that meant the old bastard was dead, and if Kaleb wasn’t careful, he would be joining him. Just like Tamica.

“This book contains profiles of your major competitors,” the blueblood woman said. “A page has been torn from it. I need you to tell me who is missing.”

OUTSIDE, the night air felt cool against Helena’s skin. The Mar had torn out more than one page. The book was missing Magdalene Moonflower from the south and Clive Keener from the north. The two Edgers lived a thousand miles apart. Clever, Helena reflected. It won’t save you, swamp rat. The Hound of the Golden Throne is coming for you. Dogs killed rats, and she would crush this one and take his head to Spider. It would make a fitting tribute.

Karmash and Sebastian waited for her. The situation mandated only one possible solution. She had to split her team. They both knew it, and each waited to see who would be chosen.

Clive Keener operated only a few hundred miles from their last encounter, while Magdalene Moonflower made her den all the way in the south of the continent. Of the two, Clive was a better bet.

“Karmash.”

The large man stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowed, his white hair dripping down. Sebastian’s face was carefully impassive.

“Take Soma, Mura, and Cotier and pay a visit to Magdalene Moonflower. You may have the smaller wyvern. If you find this Mar, inform me immediately and do not engage. Observe only and do not let him know he’s been found. Am I clear?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You may go.”

Karmash rose, spun, and walked away, barking orders. The three agents she had named followed him into the night.

Sebastian said nothing.

“You are more capable,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, my lady.” Sebastian’s voice was a deeper snarl than usual.

She didn’t often condescend to explain her reasoning, but fostering resentment in her second-in-command would lead to a disaster. “It doesn’t matter who scouts an enemy. It only matters who apprehends him. Kaldar Mar is a snake, and like a snake, he’s smart and calculating. If Karmash manages to find him and stay undetected, he will wait until we arrive to capture. If the Edger outsmarts Karmash, your reputation with our people will remain untarnished by failure.”

Sebastian stared at Karmash disappearing into the Edge. A low, half-suppressed growl reverberated in his throat. “I don’t trust him. He doesn’t care about the security of the country or the mission. He thinks only of himself.”

Helena glanced at him. “He’s one of my uncle’s lieutenants. Do you question Spider’s judgment?”

“No, my lady.” Sebastian bowed his head.

She smiled at him. “You should. I question everyone’s judgment, including my own. You must remember, Sebastian, Karmash is part of the Hand, which protects the colony. We’re the Hounds, who defend the throne. We have a more refined sense of purpose and duty. That’s why I am here, stepping into my uncle’s place until he can return to active service. I must uphold the honor of our family name and do my duty to the Empire. I count on you to fight by my side.”

Sebastian bowed his head. “Always, my lady.”

She had expected nothing less. “Come. We travel north.”

KALDAR sat in a Starbucks across from the mall’s Sears entrance, sipped coffee—it was slightly burned and bitter—and contemplated his sanity. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Audrey was right. They were rushing the scheme. They needed ten days. Two weeks would have been better. But the Hand wouldn’t be delayed for long. In every con, there came a time when the plan fell apart, and one had to improvise. This was no different. He was used to flying by the seat of his pants; he welcomed it most of the time. Often, when he was under pressure, things miraculously snapped into place. But he wasn’t flying solo.

First, there were the kids. As much as he reassured Audrey, there was a small chance one of them would stumble. True, both of them could defend themselves, but having the potential didn’t always mean guaranteed results.

Then there was Audrey herself. Beautiful, sweet Audrey. Distracting Audrey. Audrey who monopolized his brain when it should be concerned with other things, like planning and calculating. Leaving her father and brother he understood, but walking away from a talent of that caliber to chase cheating husbands and insurance frauds in the Broken? She loved what she did; back in Pena’s house, she had enjoyed every moment of it. The memory of her, cool, collected, and smooth as silk, popped into his head. Mmmm.

Audrey, Audrey, Audrey . . .

Why had she stopped stealing? If there was ever a woman born to be a cat burglar, she was one. She could live like a queen in the Broken or in the Weird. But something had made her stop cold. The violent episode with the drug dealer damaged her, but it didn’t break her. She’d made a conscious choice to walk away from her talent. Curiosity was once again killing him.

He’d tried to steal a kiss again before dropping her off, and she gave him a flat stare that slammed the door in his face.

In his experience, women fell into two categories: those who were too old or taken, and those who were up for some fun. With the right approach, most available women could be seduced. It had nothing to do with their character or their gender and everything to do with the basic human need for recognition and attention. He was a grifter. Seducing, whether it was to separate people from their money or to entice them into friendship or an affair, was his art. He was expert in it.