Chapter 4
FOUR
T he SUV pulled away, leaving Thora alone in the alley. She continued her methodical defeathering process, determined to restore some professional dignity before returning to the motel. The last thing she needed was to walk through the lobby looking like she’d lost a fight with a chicken.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Unknown number. She considered ignoring it—most of her contacts knew better than to reach out after a completed job unless it was an emergency.
Curiosity won out. “Halliwell,” she answered, her tone clipped.
“Ms. Halliwell.” The voice on the other end was precise, cultured, with a slight accent she couldn’t immediately place. “My name is Jared Clemmins. I represent a client with a matter of some... urgency.”
Thora’s hunter instincts perked up. Something in his tone suggested this wasn’t a standard bounty call. “I’m listening.”
“My client is prepared to offer fifty thousand for the retrieval of a certain item and the... person... currently in possession of it.”
She straightened. “Fifty thousand is significant. Must be quite the item.”
“Indeed. Or rather, quite the individual in possession of it. They’ve evaded several previous retrieval attempts.”
“Location?”
“Near a town called Enchanted Falls.”
Thora nearly laughed out loud. “Enchanted Falls? The magical tourist trap with the namesake waterfall and gift shops selling crystal unicorns?”
“Your description, while colorful, does the place a disservice,” Clemmins replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Enchanted Falls has a... particular reputation for those in certain circles.”
“Yeah, a reputation for bounty hunters going in and never coming out. Or worse, coming out empty-handed.” She kicked at a loose piece of gravel, watching it skitter across the alley. “That kind of hit to my reputation isn’t worth fifty thousand.”
“Which is why my client is prepared to offer an additional twenty-five thousand if retrieval proves more... complicated than anticipated. Plus a ten thousand advance transferred immediately upon your acceptance.”
Thora raised an eyebrow. Seventy-five thousand total. That kind of money could set her up with new equipment, maybe even a more permanent base of operations than the series of motel rooms she’d been living out of.
“What exactly am I retrieving? And from whom?”
“Details will be sent to your secure address once you confirm. For now, I can tell you the target is skilled in magical concealment and has connections within the black market.”
“That’s not much to go on.”
“Hence the generous compensation.”
Thora kicked another piece of gravel, weighing the offer. Enchanted Falls had a reputation among bounty hunters—a place where the usual rules didn’t apply, where the community closed ranks against outsiders. Several hunters she respected had returned from there with stories about magical interference and unexpected complications.
But none of them were her.
“I’ll need specialized equipment for magical tracking. That comes out of the advance.”
“Of course. Does that mean you accept?”
She took a breath. “Send me everything you have. I’ll leave tomorrow.”
After ending the call, Thora extracted the last visible feather from her hair and flicked it away. The sun had fully set now, the alley illuminated only by the distant glow of street lights and the ambient urban shine reflected in the night sky.
She pulled up her contacts and found the one person who would give her the unvarnished truth.
The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
“Wonder Woman! Tell me you’re calling to finally take me up on that drinks offer.” Trish’s voice held the warmth of long-standing friendship wrapped in razor-sharp wit.
“Not exactly.” Thora began walking toward her motel. “What do you know about Enchanted Falls?”
A dramatic gasp came through the speaker. “The Thora Halliwell, considering a job in the magical equivalent of Mayberry? Alert the media! Wait—did you lose a bet? Blink twice if you’re being coerced.”
“Very funny.” Thora stepped around a puddle that reflected neon signs from the nearby convenience store. “It’s a job. A big one.”
“Must be to get you anywhere near a place that probably has weekly potlucks and community theater.”
“Seventy-five thousand big.”
A long, low whistle. “Okay, that would do it. What poor soul are you dragging back to civilization?”
“Don’t have all the details yet. Some kind of magical concealment expert. I need intel on the town—political structure, known players, anything useful.”
“Well,” Trish drew out the word, “it’s basically shifter central. Bears run most of the business district, wolves handle security, fox manage cultural stuff. Mix in some witches, fae, possibly vampires—though that might be rumor. The whole place is warded against normal humans; they can’t even see it unless they have a drop of supernatural blood.”
“Terrain?”
“Heavily forested mountains, that famous waterfall the town is named for, lots of hidden caves and magical hotspots. Perfect for anyone trying to stay hidden.”