Chapter 2
Quinn
Present Day
Inever thought I’d come back to Fable Forest. But here I am, winding through mist-drenched narrow roads in the backseat of a hired car, dodging calls from paying clients because my idiot brother has got himself in trouble.
Big trouble, too, from the sound of the desperate voice message I received three days ago.
“They’re coming for me, Quinn. I need your help. Come home. Come quick. Please.”
It was the please that got me.
Kaiden doesn’t normally ask for anything, and he’s suspicious about smart phones. He likes to pretend he’s a hot shot in the underground scene, but all my intelligence reports indicate he’s a low-level player just trying to get by. Not unlike every other Evans male in our family history.
So, whatever trouble he’s in might be big enough to call me in, but I’m confident it’s easily dealt with. In any case, whatever it is probably won’t take very long to sort.
And if it’s a favor my brother needs—or even some money—then, so be it. I’ll do what needs doing with the same cold, detached maximum efficiency I use for every job I’ve ever taken. Get in, help out, then get out.
Sighing, I press my forehead against the cool glass of window beside me and spread my hand to it. The ring around my finger sparkles, even in the darkness, and reminds me of the unfinished business that binds me to this place.
How much longer is it through the night? An hour? Less?
I’d forgotten how tucked away the forest and the woods were from the airport.
Been a while since I had to make the trip.
But I don’t even have to read the road signs to know we’re closing in on enchanted territories.
I can feel it in my blood, drumming under my skin, and for the first time in damn near a decade, I huff out a frozen breath.
It inches over the glass, spreading into a small circle of iced fog. For a few seconds, it holds, clinging to the smooth surface. Then the cracks appear, the strain of holding its shape against the heat blasting through the car is too great. I watch it slide down, disgusted.
“Are you-” the driver breaks off and ducks his head to catch my eye in the rearview. “Are you going to be sick? Do you need me to slow down?”
I laugh.
Sick to my stomach? Yes, I am.
Sick in the back of his car because of the twisting roads?
“No.” I straighten in my seat. The rigid training I put myself through automatically kicks in, and I run down a mental checklist to compose myself.
Head up, eyes straight. Benevolent but detailed smile on. No fidgeting. Hands spread and relaxed, not clenched or clasped.
“It’s been a long day, and I thought I left this place behind me. But, you know, family.”
His eyebrows lift and he nods, mouthing family like he knows what I mean by that single word. Like he understands the blessing and curse that family can be.
But he doesn’t know my family.
Doesn’t know that for generations, my family has had to lie, cheat, and swindle just to get by. We’ve never once been on top, or in power, or hell, even just stable.
I swore all that would stop with me.
I was the one that would be legit and change the course of our family’s ongoing legacy. That’s partly because my grandmother took such care to educate me and push me toward allowing myself to dream of becoming something bigger. Something better.
She’s the grit in my bones, the only reason I had the guts to do what I did.
Black ink, white paper, Queenie.
A chill works its way up my spine as I conjure up the memory of that impossibly tall, beautifully horned demon. He towered above me, dressed in an expensive-looking tailored suit with his long, pointed tail flicking idly behind him and wings tucked in around his back in a relaxed manner.
Despite his curved lips, amusement-filled black eyes, and the concessions he gave to put me at ease, I still couldn’t help but feel as if his big, clawed hands were wrapped around my throat.
I had no other options but to sign his stupid contract — not if I wanted to do right by my family and be free to pursue the life that should’ve been mine.
One where I wouldn’t have to resort to hard graft, picking pockets, or kowtowing to lesser, eviler men than my father.
The ones who lived in shadow, dealt in death, decay, debt, or drugs.
No, thanks. I wanted a legitimate life born out of the blood, sweat, and tears of my own work.
And after ten years of hard hustle to put myself through college and earn my reputation for ruthless negotiations, I became the top sought-after fixer in the city known only as the Ice Queen.
The money, the prestige, the notoriety… if it all came at the cost of a personal life and meaningful relationships, I had to believe it was worth it.
Even if it was lonely as hell.
Trading romance, dating, and sex was a no-brainer for me. There just wasn’t room in my schedule for it. Besides, I prefer to keep most everyone else at arm’s length, and the only man to spark my interest… well, I left him behind.
My phone lights up, cutting through my thoughts with its insistent vibration. It’s Preacher, calling about work for the third time in as many hours.
Shooting a glance at the driver, I jab the button to answer and lift the phone to my ear.
“What is it, Preach? I told you I was going to be out of town for a few days dealing with a personal matter.”
A few days. That’s how long I’m giving this trip.
Whatever Kai’s got a problem with, I’m sure it won’t rate on the scale of disasters I typically deal with.
“I know you’re busy this weekend. Sorry to bother you. Just thought you oughta know we got word someone’s been asking about you around town. Don’t seem like our usual clientele.”
I purposefully relax in my seat and prop my elbow up against the window’s ledge while my heart rate accelerates.
My business thrives on my reputation and word of mouth.
I don’t require advertising or listing in public directories, so it’s unusual for someone to come looking for me without going through proper introductions.
“Oh?”
“I don’t like it, Quinn,” he sighs, agitation evident in his clipped, serious tone. “You being gone? Someone suddenly sniffing around? You know I don’t believe in coincidences.”
My eyes shift over to the driver dutifully trying to ignore my conversation. I don’t like giving anything away. Not if I can help it.
“I’m sure you and Gina can hold down the fort without me. I’ll be back in a few days. Three, tops.”
“And if you’re not?”
I hold back a groan. Preacher can be over-protective, but he’s only doing it out of concern for me.
“Then, you take point on that one. I trust you.”
He grunts, but the sound is soft and laced with pride.
“Be careful out there, Quinn. I hear there’s a lot of monsters roaming those streets.”
“Yeah?” I swirl my fingers over my knee in a lazy pattern and watch as tiny snowflakes form and fall. They melt the second they touch my bare skin. “Good thing I’m one of them.”
An hour later, I’m climbing the stairs of a dilapidated building on the outskirts of town. With every step I take to my brother’s apartment, I curse his name.
“Why did you have to choose a building without a working elevator, Kai? And isn’t time you moved out of this—” I bite my tongue to keep the word shithole from falling out.
Magical towns like Fable Forest are full of magical folk.
Any one of them might be able to hear me muttering to myself out here while I huff and puff my way to the top.
The walls have ears isn’t just a saying in parts like these.
So, instead, I swipe at the sweat on my brow, grind my teeth, and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
Once I’m on the sixth floor, I wheel my luggage to apartment 66 and rap on the door. Three quick taps, just like we used to do when we were kids, and I was checking to see if my little brother was still awake in the bunk bed below me.
“Hey, it’s me. Open up.”
I lean in, listening for movement, but there’s nothing. In fact, as I glance up and down the hallway, the whole building is pretty darn quiet. There’s no couple arguing, no tv blaring, no babies crying.
But it’s late, I reason, trying to ignore the way the hair on the back of my neck rises in alarm. I’m just psyching myself out because I shouldn’t be here.
I reach for the doorknob, my gut clenching tight. I try it, expecting it to be locked. So when it turns, I have to suck in a breath and say a quick prayer.
Please be okay, please be okay.
“Kai? You home?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as the door swings open.
And then I see the overturned furniture, the slashed cushions, and the dumped drawers. The knot in my belly leaps into my throat as I step forward, abandoning my bag at the door.
“No… Kai? Kai!”
He’s not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. I race down the hall to the lone bedroom and practically kick down the door when I get to it.
But it’s empty.
They’re coming for me, Quinn.
I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but if they’ve done something to my brother…
Dread fills me as I round the corner to the bathroom. It’s the last place I want to check, but I have to know if he’s here.
If he’s here, he may be hurt. Or worse.
And if he’s not…
Well, he might still be hurt. Or worse.
I need your help. Please.
Fear wraps its icy fingers around my heart, squeezing like a vice.
What could Kai have possibly gotten himself mixed up in that would warrant a response like this?
From what I know, my brother is nightclub muscle for a few different places around town. Every so often, he pockets a little extra to look the other way. If he sometimes swipes an expensive watch or unclasps a bracelet or two, well, that’s just the life he knows.
Come home. Come quick.
Had I not taken him seriously enough when he called me? Had I taken too much time to come?
It’s not like I hadn’t tried to reach him after he left it. I called several times, but as suspicious of technology as Kai is, he rarely answers so I didn’t think twice about it. I didn’t even question it.
Maybe it was stupid. Maybe I was stupid.
My heart hammers in my chest as I reach the bathroom door. It’s ajar, and I push it open with trepidation suspending my breath.
Here, too, there’s mess.
Toiletries scattered, the cabinet emptied, and the mirror smashed. I catch a glimpse of my fractured, pale reflection before I yank back the shower curtain.
But there’s no body in the bathtub. No trace of blood on the porcelain.
“Oh, thank the Goddess.” I lean back against the door jamb, the relief temporary. Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw my phone and jab at the call button.
Preacher picks up on the first ring, and I don’t wait for him to speak.
“That person asking for me? When did they start asking around?”
“Just in the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours, far as I know. They’ve been persistent. Making a lot of noise downtown, which is another reason it struck me as odd.”
“Find out who they are and what they want. Do it fast.”
“Eh? Something happen?”
“Yeah, Preach.” I walk back toward the kitchen, scanning for any hint of a clue about what’s happened here or why. “It’s going to take longer than I thought to deal with this family situation.”
“Do you need me out there with you? I can be on the next flight out.”
I rifle through the paperwork strewn across the table. My eyes catch on a paystub, with the employer logo obscured by other scattered documents.
“No. I need you there, in the city. Handling our clients and the business.”
He scoffs. “Gina and I aren’t replacements for you.”
“You’re going to have to be.” My heart sinks as I tug the paystub free and see the familiar logo. “Hey, what did you mean when you said the guys asking for me aren’t our usual clientele?”
“They’re not businessmen, politicians, or movers and shakers.
They don’t look like the sort of folk who conduct business over filet mignon and a bottle of red.
They look more rough and tumble. You know.
The kind who roar into town on noisy motorcycles and who have more muscle that brain. ” Preacher coughs.
“These men—” I take a deep breath and uncover another paystub. This one bears an unmistakably neat signature on an uncashed check dated three days ago, the day Kai left me a voice mail. “Are they demons, orcs, humans, or something else entirely?”
“Orcs.”
“Fuck.” My hand tightens, crumpling the corner of the paycheck before I force myself to put it down. Smooth it out.
So much for get in, help out, and get out.
“What? What is it? Do you know what they want?”
“It’ll be money. The question is… how much?”
From past experience, I already know it’ll be too much.
Too damn much.