Razors and Revenge #6
Kang was frozen in place for one agonizing second. Slowly, she crumpled to the ground inside the prison.
Shiloh was breathing hard, heart pounding. Agony thrummed through her.
Razors and magic danced, ecstatic.
The wolf bitch was down, panting, eyes full of familiar crazies. Still left-handed, Shiloh aimed at the wolf. “Gotcha, bitch.”
A thought intruded. She holstered her weapon. One-handed, she lifted the were-bitch and tossed her into the trap with Kang. Magic trap. Magic vengeance. The bitch began feasting on Kang.
“Magic beats blades and bullets.” She laughed, fell to her butt, and watched the bitch eat.
Shiloh was bleeding. A lot. It would clot. Eventually. Probably.
From up the path, four gunshots sounded.
“Really?” Shiloh asked the bitch.
A wolf yelped from the same direction.
“Really?”
Cursing under her breath, she made it to her feet, gathered her weapons, and trotted down the path. When she found Fred and Mi-sook, near a country road, the last wolf was dead nearby. Fred was on the ground, the injured vamp drinking from Fred’s wrist. Fred licked Mi-sook’s head wounds.
From a strictly clinical standpoint, it was gross.
“I’ve called for exfil and blood meals,” Fred said as Mi-sook sucked.
Shiloh let herself slide down a nearby tree. The sensation of razors drifted through her, interwoven with personal magic she had forgotten years ago, satisfied with battle and vengeance.
What the actual fuck had she become?
Four white unmarked mugs, coffee in a big thermos, and a teapot under a pink cozy were on the table. Jane didn’t seem like a pink kind of woman, but Jane didn’t seem like a queen either.
The door opened. Eli and Koun took places at the table. Neither looked at her.
Shiloh went still, unbreathing, unblinking. Déjà vu. Razors scored her nerves, screaming, Fightfightfight.
Jane entered. The door closed. The queen took her usual place at the table, poured her own tea, and sat back. “Gentlemen, coffee. Shiloh?”
Eli poured coffee and shoved a mug across the table to Shiloh. “Drink,” he ordered.
Shiloh drained the cup and held it out for a refill. She had learned this was Eli’s special brew, dark as sin and twice as strong. The razors buzzed happily.
Jane was dressed as a queen, tailored, elegant, her long black hair up in a braided bun. The queen set down her cup. There was no Count von Count on it.
This isn’t a casual meeting. Got that. Shiloh should have dressed up.
“You could have killed the bitch and Kang,” the queen said. “They attacked ones who are ours.”
Ours. Royalty speaking.
Pulling up some sketchy court formality from the bottom of her memory, Shiloh said, “Yes, my lady. The bitch bit me.”
“Why didn’t you? Kill them?”
Shiloh’s hand tightened on her mug. “Kang was your enemy. What was left of her needed to be bled-and-read for info. The bitch was…pitiful. Psychotic. Hungry. Controlled by my queen’s enemies.”
Shiloh held in a grin. Vengeance had been a magic trap. Letting one conspirator feed on the other had been fun. Not that she would say something crazy like that.
“Capable of rational thought,” the queen said. “We approve. How did you feel during the hunt and kills?”
That royal we again. Shiloh finished her second cup of coffee, giving herself time to think. Shrugged. “I got vengeance for Atticus.”
“Was vengeance worth it?” the queen asked.
“Forgive me, My Queen, but why are you asking?”
“Since you were bitten by multiple werewolves, you’re faster, more nimble, more accurate, and less mentally stable, yet you’re controlled. Mostly. As I once said, like me, you’re a singularity. I like singularities.” The queen’s yellow eyes held her gaze.
Shiloh weighed the personal I as opposed to the royal we.
The queen continued. Or maybe it was Jane talking now. Hard to tell.
“If you don’t shift, and if you maintain self-control for two more full moons, it’s doubtful you’ll shift into a werewolf.”
A weight slid from Shiloh.
“If so, we have a proposition for you.”
“I’m listening, my lady,” Shiloh said cautiously, interpreting the pronoun.
“We are in need of a…problem solver,” the queen said.
Koun said, “Those who break the queen’s law and are within her reach are my duty. Those who break the queen’s law but are out of reach still must be dealt with.”
Eli said, “She needs someone with a full year of specialized training in security systems, multiple fighting techniques, and magic to carry out the queen’s justice.”
“Someone like you,” the queen said. “Not in our livery. Not in our colors. No written orders.”
“An assassin,” Shiloh whispered. Magic razors hummed, interested.
“Call it what you will,” the queen said.
“Salary?” Shiloh asked Koun.
“All expenses, weapons, armor, a stipend, and bounties,” the Celtic warrior said.
Eli slid a folded paper across the table.
Shiloh opened it and read the number inside. The stipend was enough to pay bills, contract with additional human donors, and buy her own home. Add in bounties, and she could fund a long undeath. She tucked the paper into a jacket pocket. “Specialized training?”
Eli said, “Your stipend will begin after two full moons, providing you sign the contract and survive, wolf-less.”
Shiloh stood. “I’ll take the gig. I’ll design my armor. And I’m not going furry.” She met the queen’s gaze. “Thank you, My Queen.”
The queen inclined her head. “You are dismissed.”
“You know that phrase annoys the hell outta me, right?”
“Oh yes.” The queen smiled, a happy human smile. “When it was used on me, I hated it. You are dismissed.”
Shiloh walked out. The queen’s assassin was a pretty cool job title. Yeah. She’d take it.