Chapter 2
Wynn raced out of the Witch’s Brew and darted into the alleyway across the street. Once out of sight, she leaned against the brick wall and struggled to catch her breath.
Dammit. She’d been careless. For the past two centuries she’d trained herself to wait until she’d devised a meticulous, detailed plan before executing a job. It sometimes took years to properly prepare herself. But tonight she’d plunged into the most obvious trap ever set. It was embarrassing.
Then again, it wasn’t like she had much choice. She was no longer in the position to wait to create the perfect heist. Hell, the way the magic was consuming her, she was beginning to wonder if she had more than a few weeks.
Right now she had to gamble on finding what she needed, even if it meant risking the wrath of the mages. She was trusting that she had the skill to stay one step ahead. Or if not skill, then maybe dumb luck would be on her side.
Sucking in a deep breath, she took a quick glance around to make sure she was alone.
There didn’t seem to be anyone hanging around, but a prickle of unease crawled over her skin.
It was late enough for the humans to be tucked in bed, and since it was outside the Gyre, it wasn’t a hot spot for demons or vampires.
Not unless they were there to purchase a magical contract with the mages.
But over the past week, she couldn’t shake the sensation she was being stalked by an unseen enemy.
The sensation was wearing on her already raw nerves.
Telling herself that she was imagining things, Wynn rubbed her thumb over the stone. She’d lied about what it was, of course. She always lied. Ever since she’d awakened on the banks of the Thames River nearly two hundred years ago. It was the only way for a young woman on her own to survive.
A familiar tingle sparked to life. Closing her eyes, Wynn felt the magic rush through her.
Not her magic—she didn’t have any—but she could tap into the spell contained in the stone.
Once she felt the familiar tingles of power, she visualized the thin, shimmering thread of power that appeared in her mind.
It wound its way through the empty streets of New Jersey and across the bridge until it stopped in a narrow alleyway in the Bronx.
Once she was certain that she was firmly anchored, she released the magic binding her to the stone in her hand.
It wasn’t as simple as picking up a stone and dropping another one.
At least not for her. She had to carefully make sure she held firmly onto one thread of magic while gently releasing the other thread before the spell could activate.
Otherwise, she would either be torn in two by the competing powers, or she’d lose contact with the stone she was trying to use as an anchor and she’d be stuck taking the bus.
Something she very much hoped to avoid.
At last, Wynn removed her thumb from the stone and dropped it into her coat pocket. A second later the magic lashed out, snapping along the thread. As it went, it curled around Wynn, whipping her from one place to another.
It wasn’t like soaring through the air. Or skimming over the ground.
It was as if she blinked out of existence and was shoved through a black hole into another location.
She didn’t understand exactly what happened.
And if she was being honest, she’d admit that a part of her worried that she was being dissolved and re-formed each time she used the magic.
If that was true, then it seemed possible that if something went wrong, she might not reform with all her parts in the correct place.
But when she was in the middle of a job there was nothing more important than being able to disappear without a trace. That was how she’d managed to remain a mere shadow over the years.
So abracadabra and zip-a-dee-doo-dah...time to go.
The darkness consumed her before spitting her out on the other side. Lurching forward, Wynn rammed into the nearby dumpster as she struggled to regain her balance. At the same time, the stench of rotting trash and human vomit assaulted her like a punch to the face.
Grimacing, Wynn forced herself to bend down and grab the small stone that she’d hidden behind the dumpster and slipped it into her pocket with the first stone.
Then, straightening, she headed down the alley.
A few minutes later she was climbing the wooden steps connected to the back of the shuttered pawnshop.
Halfway up, she paused long enough to glance around, once again feeling the gaze of the unseen Watcher.
As always, there was no one in sight, and with a muttered obscenity, she forced herself to continue up the staircase.
She felt the brush of magic as she stepped through the barrier wrapped around the narrow brick building, but it slid past her without harm.
The spell wasn’t nearly as potent as the complicated weaves that protected the Witch’s Brew.
Just as the lock on the door was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.
Shoving her way into the apartment that was crammed to the ceiling with wooden boxes and plastic totes, she carefully inched her way through a narrow opening to where a goblin was standing near an open window, as if checking to see if she’d been followed.
Seemingly assured that she was alone, he turned to reveal the narrow face that was framed by long, stringy hair and crimson flames that had been tattooed along the line of his jaw.
He was wearing faded jeans and a leather vest that revealed more than she wanted to see of his bare chest.
He stepped forward, his pale red aura weaving around him. The dullness of the glow revealed he was a pedestrian demon, his bloodline diluted over the centuries.
She’d been dealing with Hexx since she’d first discovered her talent for.
..acquiring...magical items. At the time, he was peddling an elixir that could cure everything from the plague to the lack of manly vigor near the docks of London.
After he’d been run out of the city by the Cabal leader for accidentally poisoning several members of a royal demon clan, he’d set up shop in New York.
“Did you find it?” the demon demanded as he held out his hand.
“No, but I got these.” Opening the bag, Wynn spilled the contents onto the male’s palm.
Hexx sniffed, studying the objects. “Low-grade stuff.”
Wynn reached to take them back. “If you don’t want them—”
“Slow your roll.” Hexx wrapped his fingers around the objects. “I didn’t say that. I can move them, but it’s going to be for pennies.”
“A thousand US dollars.”
Hexx widened his eyes. “Are you deaf? I just said this stuff is crap.”
Wynn snapped her fingers. This was a familiar song and dance they’d performed a hundred times over the past century.
“Then give them back and I’ll sell them to Virgil.”
“Virgil Magyari?” He spit the name out like a curse.
“That bastard? He might claim he’s some sort of expert in black market magic, but he’s nothing more than a hack who regularly steals, cheats, and bullies his customers.
Only the most desperate idiot would go to him.
” Hexx pursed his lips. “You know what? I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll give you three hundred. You’re welcome.”
“You would cheat a poor girl just trying to survive?” Wynn pressed a hand against her chest, her eyes filling with tears. “What about my poor sick mother? Nine hundred.”
Hexx snorted. “If you’re a poor, helpless girl, then I’m the Easter Bunny. Three fifty.”
With a chuckle, Wynn shattered the illusion she’d created for her various heists.
The child with freckles and bouncy brown curls was replaced with an angular face and stunning lavender eyes.
Her features were finely chiseled, with high cheekbones and a narrow nose.
Her lips were wide and full, as if they were offering a sulky invitation.
Or at least that’s what one hopeful lover had told her.
She didn’t know what that meant, which was probably why he’d never gone from hopeful to lover.
Her silky blond hair was pulled into a tight braid that hung down her back, and beneath her coat she wore black spandex that made it easy to disappear into the shadows.
At a glance she looked to be in her mid-twenties, although Wynn honestly had no idea how old she was. At least 198 years, but it could be more. It could be a lot more. Just another mystery in her crazy life.
“Seven hundred fifty dollars and not a penny less,” she said.
“Five hundred. Final offer.”
Wynn rolled her eyes. “Fine. But only because I’m in a hurry. Those curses are worth five hundred apiece.”
“Why are you in a hurry?” Hexx reached into his back pocket to pull out a wad of bills, counting them off with meticulous care.
Making a sound of impatience, Wynn reached forward to snatch them out of his hand.
“A good question.” She shoved the money into the pocket of her coat.
It was the one thing that hadn’t been a part of her illusion.
Five hundred dollars was less than she used to spend on a nice bottle of wine, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and this would give her some breathing space for a few days.
“You have a relationship with the Witch’s Brew, don’t you? ”
Hexx stilled, belatedly sensing Wynn’s seething annoyance. “Relationship?”
“You know the owners?”
Hexx’s ratlike features twisted with disgust. “If you mean the trio of bitches who’ve made my life a living hell, then yeah, I suppose I know them. Why?”
“Because I walked into a trap tonight.”
“A trap?” Hexx stared at her. “Are you kidding?”
Wynn held out her hand, hovering above one of the crystals that held a nasty curse.
“You tell me, Hexx. Do you think I’m kidding?”
“Okay. Simmer down.” Hexx might not have known exactly how her magic worked, but he understood she could release the curse to spill over him. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. I swear those mages are the bane of my existence.”