Jinx slept, snores echoing from her room. I was tempted to bang around the kitchen, but settled for leaving the bag of shoes, the ones with sick all over them, in her bedroom. Oh sweet revenge.
I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, dropped a note on the kitchen counter, and slid out of the loft apartment we shared. As much as I’d love to see Jinx’s face when she woke up, I had questions that needed answering.
I considered going to see Jenna, but shook my head. No, hunters keep odd hours. My teacher, and sometimes backup, would probably be out prowling the streets for rogue supernaturals. Woe the creature she caught feasting on a human. Jenna might only be one-hundred pounds soaking wet, but the petite redhead was whip fast, armed, and deadly.
Instead, I turned right onto Water Street avoiding the drunks lingering in doorways or staggering to the next seedy bar or raucous pub. It would be just my luck to avoid being hit by Jinx’s sick, only to have a stranger puke on me. Ah, the joys of living in the Old Port. I hunched forward, hands in jacket pockets, and walked faster.
I took Wharf Street and started to relax slightly. The bar crowd tended to stick to the sidewalks here, avoiding the cobbled street. “Ankle twisters” Jinx called cobbles and for good reason. I’d stuck to the comparatively smooth, brick sidewalks myself while guiding Jinx home, but now I strode down the center of the road, only stepping to the side when a car entered the narrow, one-way street.
At the top of the hill, I rang the buzzer beside the door of The Emporium. The store was closed, but Kaye never left the place unprotected. Someone or something manned the door, ready to carry a message back to their boss. I preferred coming to the store during business hours when Arachne, Kaye’s human employee, ran the shop. Visiting after hours was…unpredictable.
I think Kaye liked playing with her visitors just as much as she enjoyed toying with her employees. Bothering the witch at night only added to her fun. I suppose I should be glad she didn’t blast me into dust for the intrusion.
I waited, itching to press the buzzer again, but not wanting to push my luck. I raked a gloved hand through my hair and sighed. Patience was not my strong suit and, in my defense, it had been a very long day. As my sigh puffed out to mix with cool night air, I heard a scratching sound overhead.
I held my breath and listened, slowly tilting my head back to look up. I untangled my hands from my hair and lowered them to hip height, keeping my arms loose and hands ready to receive my knives.
There it was again, like claws tapping and scratching at stone. And it was definitely coming from above, not from the street below. That ruled out a human taking their dog for a walk. No, this was not a normal city sound at all.
The door to The Emporium stood at the corner of the building, walls towering overhead and roads running back at angles to the left and right. I scanned the stone and brick walls, searching for what was making the sound. My mouth fell open at the sight of a gargoyle crawling down the building toward me, stone nails clicking on brick, stone, and mortar. Though the creature must weigh a ton, it moved with surprising agility and speed—like a bat out of Hell.
A giggle rose in my throat and I snorted. The idiom was apt. Bat-like wings sprouted from the back of the demonic form. If the faerie hadn’t been made of stone, I might have wondered if it was indeed Hellspawn—a bat demon rushing out of Hell and straight at me.
The gargoyle’s face was grotesque, an amalgam of canine, bat, and goat. Rams horns rose from its head and large teeth protruded from a rounded snout. The teeth were impressive, but I focused on the muscled arms and legs racing toward me, each ending in sharp claws—claws that rent through brick and stone.
I longed to palm my knives, but traffic continued to swish past on my right and left, humans oblivious to the creature rushing toward me. Not to mention the futility of stabbing a gargoyle with a common blade. If I resorted to violence, I’d have to wait for the gargoyle to suffer the effects of iron poisoning from the iron tips of my knives. I didn’t think I’d survive that long.
I blinked away stone dust, and risked a glance at Kaye’s door. I shouldn’t have to face the gargoyle alone. Where was the doorman? Unless… Could the gargoyle be working for Kaye?
When dealing with the supernatural it can be difficult to tell friend from foe. The best indication of enemy is when the creature with big teeth tries to eat you. And I wasn’t about to wait that long. I had no desire to be a gargoyle’s chew toy.
I also didn’t want to disembowel one of Kaye’s employees, if the creature was in fact working for the witch. I had a nagging suspicion that doing so would piss her off. With only seconds left before the beast was on top of me, I did the one thing I could do. I screamed at the wall.
At least, that’s what passerby would witness. A crazy lady yelling at a brick wall.
“Halt!” I yelled. “Identify yourself.”
Jenna’s military-style phrasing was starting to rub off on me. I suppose that’s what happens when you spend too much time with Hunters. Next I’d be referring to the gargoyle as my target. Though honestly, if the gargoyle wasn’t friendly, I was screwed. I brushed the fingertips of my glove along the grip of my throwing knife, wishing I had a jackhammer up my sleeve instead.
“Thaaat isss myyy liiine,” the gargoyle said. He grinned. At least, I hoped it was a grin. His lips pulled back to reveal more teeth. “Madammme Kaaaye willll seeee youuu nowww.”
His words were like rocks grating on one another. The sound made my head ache, but at least the creature wasn’t going to kill me. There was that. The gargoyle made a bowing motion, even though he was still hanging upside down on the vertical wall, and waved toward the door with one paw. At his gesture the door clicked open.
Kaye’s love of theatrics was really starting to piss me off. She could have spelled the door to unlock when I first knocked. I grunted at the gargoyle sentry and trudged inside. The faerie raised a stone eyebrow at my rudeness, but I didn’t have the energy or patience for pleasantries.
My shoulders slumped as the last rush of adrenaline bled away. I’d put my body through too many fight or flight situations for one day. I wanted to be sleeping in my bed, not rousing a powerful witch from hers.
Chapter 6
The door snicked shut behind me, closing out the night and sealing me in. I paused and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The Emporium was black as the inside of a closed coffin, but I was able to make out the clutter of obstacles in my path. My fae heritage had recently endowed me with exceptional night vision.
It was a good thing, since Kaye’s shop was nearly impossible to navigate even in daylight. Without night vision I’d likely end up tripped by a witch’s broom, tangled in imitation spider’s web, and my head wedged inside a cauldron filled with plastic vampire teeth. Not my idea of a fun way to spend the night. And make no mistake; Kaye would leave me there until Arachne rescued me in the morning. She’d think it was a hoot.
I scowled at the tangle of foam reaper scythes, plastic skeletons, monster masks, and herb displays crowding my path. The Burning Times had left its mark on those with magical talent. Some witches hid their home high upon a cliff or within a tunnel of thick briars. Kaye chose to live in the back of her shop, a location just as insurmountable especially to anyone, or anything, she wanted to keep away.
And to those of us she deemed welcome visitors? We had to be careful where we stepped or risk breaking our necks. Even the welcome mat was unwelcoming with its message, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
I wiped my boots on the mat and stomped deeper into the shop.
I found Kaye in her spell kitchen, alone. She stood, fully dressed, eyes bright, holding a book under her arm and a mug of something steaming in her hands. She looked completely awake, which didn’t seem quite fair. I felt like something the cat sidhe dragged in, half dead and nibbled around the edges.
“Where’s Hob?” I asked.
I glanced around the kitchen, eyes searching for the small brownie, but he was nowhere to be seen. Of
