I was taking inventory in Dogwood Apothecary while Michael worked on his latest commission in the back when the bell over the door rang quietly and I looked up from my notes. I have a reputation along the East Coast for being one of the most vicious hunters in the world thanks in part to my being half Soul Collector, even earned myself the nickname “Bloody Red Queen of the East”, so normally the only new patrons that don’t hesitate to enter the shop when they see me behind the counter are humans.

This one’s scent definitely wasn’t human…

...and yet she didn’t hesitate.

Instead, she only glanced my way with a look of disdain I was more than familiar with, but no surprise and no fear.

I watched in wary curiosity as she wandered the shelves, pausing occasionally to pick up a jar and study the handwritten label. Finally, with one of them in hand, she approached the counter I was leaning on, my hand instinctively moving to the silver knife I kept strapped to its underside. Her scent was stronger now that she was closer, a heady mix of nature, magic, and death that was oddly intoxicating.

“How can I help you?” I finally broke the silence after she’d stood staring at the jar in her hand for a while. She looked up at the question with beautifully hypnotic eyes like liquid gold.

“I’d like to purchase a portion of this.” She handed me the jar and I glanced down at it briefly before raising an eyebrow at her.

“How much?” I tried to force down my unease, I really did.

“One tablespoon should suffice.” I stared at her as my paranoia and uncertainty battled the haze in my mind.

“You know what this is, right? What this does?” She nodded, her gaze narrowing in disgust at my tone.

“I don’t come here often,” somehow, her voice still looked and sounded like a song, though I got the distinct impression she hadn’t meant Pembroke when she said here. I took a deep breath and looked back at the jar in my hand as I tried to rationalize the conversation with a head that felt unusually muddy and slow. I was still staring when she broke the silence again, “whoever wrote that label has beautiful penmanship.” I blinked up at her again in mild surprise before looking back down at the faded old label in my distinctive calligraphy.

Cicuta maculata.

Spotted Cowbane.

Suicide Root.

I could think of nothing a mortal person would want with that much of such a thing for beyond,

well,

suicide...

or murder, maybe.

I stared at the familiar handwriting a moment longer before setting the jar with careful precision on the counter as if one wrong move would cause both of us to shatter.

“That would be Michael, I’ll let him know you think so,” I lied flawlessly as I looked up again. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” I didn’t wait for a reply before I turned to slip through the door into the back room.

“Michael,” my voice cracked slightly as I called out and Michael looked up from behind his notes and piles of research, worry fracturing his careful mask when he saw the haze in my expression.

“Reyna, are you alright?” I swallowed and tried to shake free of the fog in my mind now that I was away from its source.

“There’s a lady out there who wants to buy a tablespoon of Suicide Root.”

Its source.

“That fucking bastard.” He stared at me for a minute or two before climbing to his feet and coming around his desk to hold me in place, a hand firmly on each shoulder as I moved to unlock my locker under the stairs. “She’s one of the Fae!” Michael started to piece together what was happening, his grip on my uninjured shoulder tightening because he knew me well enough by now to know about my seething hatred of Fae Folk.

And why shouldn’t I hate them?

They’re narcissistic, arrogant, selfish assholes that get off on screwing with people and add to that the fact their pheromones are like a drug so it becomes like getting drunk without the alcohol and hell for a hangover.

“Who is?” Michael’s voice betrayed his confusion as I elbowed him hard in the stomach and broke free of his grasp, “The woman out there?” I fumbled with the lock for a second before opening the door to search through the weapons I kept inside. Michael locked his arms around my arms and waist just as my fingers brushed the old iron knife I hadn’t needed in years, his grip tight as he lifted me off the ground to haul me away from the locker. “Reyna,” he spoke through teeth grit with effort as I struggled against him, “you can’t just kill every Fae you meet, not unless they try something.” I knew he was right, but my hatred of the Fae and instinctual bloodlust was winning out over logic and so I continued to squirm. I felt rather than heard Michael’s sigh as he set me down briefly and swung my elbow back aiming for the temple. We both knew I was pulling my punches as he ducked to the side, darting in again to press his fingers to the pressure point in my shoulder to knock me unconscious.

I woke with a pounding headache and covered my eyes with a groan against the light of the lamp on Michael’s desk.

“You’re awake then.” I glanced at Jesse from under my arm as she studied me with a cold look in her lilac grey eyes. “I’ve been waiting here for hours. I’ve got a date, you know.” I forced a pained smile as I swung my feet off the sofa to sit up.

“I’m sorry to inconvenience your love life,” I paused as I waited for the spinning to stop, “or is this one a meal?” She shot me a look that would kill if it could’ve, but it didn’t stick and I couldn’t help my quiet laugh. Jesse is one of the few Cambions I’ve come across in my life and thankfully, she’s not quite as narcissistic or manipulative as most of them are. “Besides, you and I both know you adore my boys.” She smiled as I rubbed my temples a moment and rolled my freshly scarred shoulder. “What are you doing here, anyway?” I broke my silence again as my hand went up unconsciously to rub the injury.

“Michael called, gave me the canned ‘this is the sort of thing friends do’ speech and when I agreed to come, he told me what happened.” I smirked and nodded slightly, regretting it when it set my world spinning again. “I met the Fae in question on her way out of the shop,” Jesse wore one of her rare frowns when I looked up again, “she’s beautiful to look at, but when she bumped into me, she called me a floozy.” I started to laugh at her indignant tone, but the look on her face told me that might not be the best idea.

“Last Fae I met called me a ‘mix breed cunt’,” I swallowed the taste of blood that came with the memory, “among various other… less appropriate names.” She smiled again before standing.

“You hunting this one?” I shrugged.

“Don’t know yet. Apparently, Michael has appointed himself in charge of Fae Folk hunting license distribution.” Jesse chuckled at the bitterness in my tone, “Have fun on your date.” She waved goodbye before disappearing through the door into the shop and I reached out to turn off the lamp on Michael’s desk so that I could spend the next few minutes nursing my almost migraine in the dark. Michael came in the back door later, pausing in the doorway to study me. I flashed him a weak smile.

“Reyna,” he was using his lecture tone and I drew my hands down my face, “listen—” I shook my head, I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

“Save it,” my reply was an inhuman snarl, but as usual, he ignored my misdirected aggression as he closed the door to approach.

“Reyna,” his voice was softer this time as he moved to crouch in front of me, pulling my hands from my face, “next time a Fae comes into the shop, please tell me immediately.” I shot him a glare and started to make some smart remark, but he wasn’t done, “I can handle them without getting… intoxicated,” he paused, “and I really don’t like having to restrain you.” I studied him with an overwhelming mixed sense of exhaustion and gratitude to go with my headache.

“If you hate it so much, then don’t do it.” He smirked at my muttered words.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so trigger happy.” I tried to frown, but a smug smile was tugging at my lips.

“Asshole.” He chuckled and pressed his lips to my cheek in a silent kiss, neither of us mentioning the fact I still unconsciously shied away from his touch after three years.

“I know,” he climbed to his feet and headed for the door into the shop, “I didn’t sell her anything.” I let out a relieved sigh, relaxing slightly.

“Where are you going?” He smirked.

“As much as I’d like to stay and… visit.” I shot him another glare, momentarily thankful that the darkness hid the red tinge in my cheeks, “I need to open the shop.” I raised an eyebrow at him in surprise, “you were out all night.” I glanced out the window to see a sunrise peeking in past the curtains and breathed a heavy sigh. After a few more minutes in the dark and the quiet, the throbbing in my head subsided to a dull ache and I climbed to my feet. I started to reach for my silver hunting knife, but something made me stop. In my opinion, which was the one that had kept me alive my entire life, the Fae was a bigger threat than any other beast I could run into in town and as long as I knew it was here, I would arm myself against it. So instead, I lifted one of my iron knives and ran my thumb along the edge. I was disappointed when my thumb came away covered in fine powdered rust, so with it in hand I stepped through the door to find Michael discussing the treatment of some virus that only affected Hollen with a round man in a suit. Upon seeing me with the knife, the man let out a terrified squeal high enough in pitch that it made me wince and I felt one of my canines slice into my bottom lip. Michael glanced back at me completely unfazed, watching just long enough to see me pull one of the boxes from behind the counter before he turned back to the Glutão. “I’m sorry if my partner startled you, she’s working on an order of knives we were asked to sharpen and polish.” I almost laughed at how easily he still lied, but instead, I focused on sharpening the blade on the stone I’d pulled from the box with all the fluidity of muscle memory. A few minutes later, Michael saw the Glutão through the front door and joined me behind the counter, his pleasant, but very fake smile gone without a trace. “You know this shop is what keeps a roof over our heads when we’re not working, right?” He spoke as though he didn’t want an actual answer so I just flashed a wolfish smile. Michael didn’t seem to notice, he was too focused on the blood dripping from a fresh wound in my lip. “You did it again, didn’t you,” he practically growled the words and I started to feign ignorance, but he took the moment to take my face in his hands and peel my lips back to confirm the elongated primary canines he’d expected. I pulled out of his grip, running my tongue over my teeth with a sharp glare. “When was the last one?” He never did have any patience with my stubborn streak, not when it came to the Wild Hunt, the disease I simply called ‘the madness’. Besides, winning these little staring contests was near impossible when I still felt guilty about blinding his left eye.

“I ran out about a month ago,” my voice was barely a whisper as Michael studied me, arms folded across his broad muscled chest. Then he breathed a sigh of exasperation, pulling a box of files from under the counter. He handed a stack of them to me before making his way down the aisles to pull the ingredients he needed for the infernal concoction we’d developed to tide me over in these situations.

“Pick a case. They’re all pretty minor for you, but they’re all nearby and the Council wants them dead.” I thought about pointing out how rare it was for me to do as the Council asked, but I was busy sorting through the files. I looked up again as he set the jars on the counter beside an old silver tea set most of our customers thought we kept for show; it was almost like magic, watching Michael work, but eventually, I returned my attention to the files in my hands. Finally, he poured the finished ‘tea’ into one of the cups and held it out to me as I wrinkled my nose at the stench, something akin to rotting flesh, cigar smoke, and cyanide. I stared at the cup for a moment, glancing up at him briefly before shaking my head slightly and tossing the drink back in one go.

“Jesus,” I set the cup on the counter next to the files and leaned heavily on it, hanging my head. “I will never get used to that taste,” I muttered the words as I stood trying to catch my breath and watching the giant fox in my reflection do the same, its eyes full of insatiable bloodlust and mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. I growled softly and it bared its teeth in response as I moved a random file to cover it. I almost laughed when I opened it to find an old police sketch of a very familiar face. “Oh, hello?” Michael looked up again at the sound of my voice before moving to stand behind me and study the file over my shoulder, a hand on my waist. “You should’ve let me kill her yesterday.” He grumbled something I didn’t quite catch and moved back out among the shelves. I thumbed through the file, skimming the details I’d use to track the Fae. She was wanted for multiple murders using Suicide Root, no surprise there, dating back at least as far as 1805 according to the dossier the Council had put together. Her appearances were spaced in 70-year cycles, each one involving the death of five members of the same family line before she’d disappear back into the Faerie Lands. It was out of character for a Fae, normally they’d simply attach a curse to your DNA and move on, and being at least partially human I couldn’t even begin to imagine what slight had been bad enough that felt the need to kill them off in person. The last page in the folder was a photo of an old family portrait, the Fae posed beside a man who looked her age with three children seated in front of them. I shook my head slightly in disbelief before taking the file to head upstairs to my library where I could make notes and consult the collection of old hunting journals I kept there.

My phone went off and I lifted it, briefly tearing my attention from my notes on the case to see a text from Jesse.

I knew what she was doing, ever since she’d found out about my habit of getting sucked into jobs and forgetting to eat, she’d send texts to make sure I remembered to take care of myself each day. She thought she was being subtle, I’m sure, but her consistency made it pretty obvious. I shot a text back and stood, getting the expected lightning fast reply by the time I’d locked the library door behind me. I padded quietly down the steps, listening quietly to the voices coming from the shop as I slipped out the back door and glanced briefly at the ongoing project my motorcycle had become before climbing into my Jeep to head out.

I walked through the door at Obadiah’s to find Jesse talking with the place’s manager, my headphones drowning out their voices and casting the place in a violet haze until I pulled them down around my neck just in time to hear the ambient music change from a blinding neon to something that painted the place in stars. Jesse thanked the man before she noticed me in the doorway.

“You made it,” her voice kept me from getting lost in the unfamiliar constellations, my emerald eyes focusing on her instead, “Michael told me you’re going after the Fae?” I smirked.

“Apparently she’s a serial killer, been on the Council’s radar for a while now,” I followed her to our usual table in the corner.

“Since when did you do jobs for the Council?” I growled as she took her seat across from me.

“Since I’m hungry and they’re paying well,” I spoke through grit teeth and raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Fair enough.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before changing the subject.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” my voice was softer this time as I nodded to the manager, “eating out is a lot like playing the lottery.” To be fair, Obadiah’s was usually pretty good about accommodating my particular disposition, but I didn’t always remember to call or text ahead.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spoke with well-played innocence as she lifted a menu and I just shook my head before looking at my own, not that I ever got anything different here.

“How was the date?” I set the menu aside and broke the silence, watching as she shifted in her seat, crossing, uncrossing, and crossing her legs again before she moved to rest her elbows on the table and trace her fingers up her arm.

“I had to cancel.” I raised an eyebrow at her and she seemed to pick up on what I assumed was the cause, “Oh, no, not because of you. My agent called me into the office last minute, besides,” she waved a hand dismissively, “it wasn’t going to work out with him anyway; too much of a tool.” I thought about pressing on the subject, but doubted it would go anywhere any more than pressing her ever had.

“What was the call about?” I opted to change the subject instead.

“I got the lead in a new movie.” I broke into a grin at the news; it wasn’t uncommon for Jesse to get major roles, but when it came to leads she’d often get passed up in favor of more ‘experienced’ actresses.

“That’s great, congrats,” I sat back to take a sip of my water as the server brought our food, “what’s the role?”

“Funny thing, that.” I raised an eyebrow at Jesse, taking another sip more to keep my mouth shut than anything else, “I’ll be playing a monster hunter.” I’m not proud to admit I almost choked on my water.

“What?” I coughed the word out and she smiled, amusement in her lilac eyes.

“At the auditions, I tried to mimic how you talk, how you carry yourself, even attempted your accent, though Brahma knows if I’ll ever get that right.” I exhaled slowly, kneading my temples for a moment, “Now that we know I’ve got the role, would you mind if I shadowed you for a little while? And pick your brain about the different monsters?”

“A bit late to be asking, don’t you think?” I muttered the words before waving it off dismissively, “Yeah, sure, why not,” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table on either side of my plate so that I could make sure my point was clear, “but you have to keep to the sidelines, no interfering in any way.” She mirrored my movements as if to commit them to memory.

“Stay out of the way, got it.” I shook my head slightly in disbelief as I sat back again and lifted my fork to eat, still a little taken aback by the fact Jesse essentially intended to play me in a movie.

“What’s the concept? Or are you allowed to tell me?” I asked more to fill the quiet than anything else.

“No, we’ve got plenty of time to talk shop, I want to know what’s new with you.” Again, I raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know; Loki and Zevi are growing up remarkably fast, though I suspect Zevi will always be blind, Michael and I are fine. Oh,” my eyes lit up at the memory as I thought about what had happened in the week or so since we’d last actually talked, “I figured out a way to make the clockwork in my Jeep’s engine self-winding using a modified steam engine,” I trailed off when I recognized the boredom and confusion in Jesse’s gaze mixed with what looked like pity.

“You are in desperate need of a real life, Reyna.” My gaze narrowed in my indignance.

“I have a life.” She laughed as though she thought I was joking.

“No, sweetie,” she flashed a sympathetic smile, “you don’t.” I shrugged, taking a bite of my food, chewing, and swallowing before I looked up again.

“I’m keeping busy, you know?” Again that sympathetic smile because she did know; she’d been with me through just about every fleeting moment of happiness I’d managed to find and promptly lose since I was six.

“Have you thought about giving Jack a call?” I started to argue that calling my ex and her older brother sounded like a horrible idea, but she held up a hand to stop me, “I’m not saying start dating again, I’m just saying,” she seemed to hesitate, like what she was about to say physically hurt her, “I think he was the last time I saw you genuinely happy other than…” She trailed off, but we both knew who she was thinking about. Ryan had never been the ‘love of my life’ or ‘soul mate’ or whatever, I’d never believed in that shite anyway, but I’d been happy enough with him that I held onto the ring he’d given me, kept it with his folded flag in my library back in Pembroke.

“I haven’t talked to him since before the funeral,” I spoke quietly and Jesse let slip a nostalgic laugh.

“You know, when Jack and I first got back in touch, we used to compete, see who could steal the other’s girlfriend fastest,” she met my mildly surprised gaze for a moment, “you were the only one he made me promise not to try.” I swallowed the knot in my throat and looked back down at my half-finished plate, studiously finishing it off before setting enough cash on the table to pay for my meal and still leave a decent tip.

“I’ve got a lot of research left to do,” I pushed away from the table and lifted my empty dishes, “I’ll give you a call when I get to the interesting part, but in the meantime, I suggest you do some research of your own.” Jesse frowned up at me.

“You’re giving me homework?” I smirked.

“Yep,” a pause, “what’re you supposed to be hunting in this movie, anyway?”

“Ice Wendigos?” I shook my head slightly and forced a smile as I tried not to cringe.

“You mean Wechuge?” Her eyes lit up.

“Yeah, that sounds right.” I took a deep breath so that I could keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“My first tip for you: use the actual name of whatever it is; monster hunters that lack intelligence or respect enough for their prey to use the correct names are usually the fastest to die.” She looked mildly confused.

“I get intelligence, but respect?”

“You know that saying: there are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots? It’s the same idea.” I shifted on my feet, resisting the urge to run out the door, “Listen, I really need to head out, so just do your research and wait until I call you, okay?”

Michael didn’t look up when I let myself in the back door, not until I let it close behind me. He watched in silence as I padded up to the back of his chair, draping my arms over his shoulders and burying my face in the side of his neck before breathing a heavy sigh.

“Well then.” I felt more than heard his quiet chuckle, “Hello to you, too,” he sounded pleasantly surprised as he looked me over, “where were you off to?”

“Jesse wanted to catch up.” He raised an eyebrow at my quiet words.

“You mean she wanted to make sure you actually ate something today.” I mumbled something along the lines of an indignant request that he shut up before pressing my lips to the side of his neck in a silent kiss.

“You know,” I spoke softly, a smirk tugging at my lips as I caught the change in his scent and felt him sit up a little straighter under my touch, “this case is interesting enough I’m liable to pull an all-nighter if I’m not… otherwise occupied.” Another low, rumbling laugh fell from his lips as my fingers danced across his chest and arms.

“Like a distraction?” His voice had dropped an octave when he finally spoke, swallowing hard as I flashed a wicked smirk, lip peeled back on one side to flash two of my sharp canines.

“Exactly,” another soft kiss, “a distraction.”

“Fun” fact: Dogwood Apothecary isn’t the only shop in Washington County that sells Suicide Root. I’m still miffed at myself for missing that rather key detail; the call came in over the scanner and I was out the door faster than Michael could finish making coffee.

He was just a kid, no more than six or seven.

He was one of the potential targets I’d set aside yesterday, though the police would no doubt rule it an accident just like the others had been. I beat most of the investigating team there and talked my way past the small patrol waiting, taking the opportunity to snap a few pictures with my phone and collect a lock of the boy’s hair in a small vial to ensure his spirit be bound to me as long as I held it. I was crouched beside the boy, examining the rubberized paint beneath his fingernails when the detective on the case finally arrived with a familiar coroner.

“Ma’am, step away from the body.” I raised my gloved hands slowly, straightened up, and did as I was told, flashing a smile at Dr. Mortimer Finch when he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide.

“Hey Morty,” I spoke with mock cheer and Finch darted forward, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me out of earshot of the dumbfounded detective.

“What are you doing here, Wildes?” I let my false cheer slip at his question.

“I know you remember what it is I do exactly.” My voice turned into a cold, level tone, “What do you think I’m doing here?” He kneaded his forehead, exhaling through his teeth and cursing the Zailbhāti’s eidetic memory before meeting my gaze again with a look of resignation.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled the words, “what is it?”

“Fae.” Again his eyes widened in surprise.

“That can’t be right,” he began but trailed off quickly.

“She used Spotted Cowbane,” I paused as I gestured back at the scene, “I’m sure you saw the signs.” Flattened foliage and post mortem bruising consistent with violent convulsions.

“There’s no bile,” Finch started to point out, but I shook my head slightly; I’d picked up the acrid stench of vomit walking up earlier.

“It rained a lot last night, but the stench is still there.” He didn’t question me, instead breathing another heavy sigh like he was getting a headache.

I didn’t blame him, things never seemed to go easy when I had to get involved. “I have to go track down the supplier, but I’ll give you a heads up when all of this is over.” I started away through the still slick grass, pulling my phone from my pocket as I went. It rang twice and then clicked.

“Hello?” Jesse’s voice came through the other end, thick with sleep.

“Hey Jesse, if you’re still serious about shadowing me on this job, I need you to meet me at the shop.” I listened quietly to the muffled scramble on the other end and smirked.

“What time is it?” I glanced down at my watch at the question, grimacing to myself when I read 05:00.

“Early,” I paused to climb into my Jeep, “just get there as soon as you can, I need to look into something anyway.” She mumbled a confirmation as I hung up and turned the Jeep back towards the shop, letting the near silent ticking and humming of the gears and steam in the engine fade into the background.

I let myself in the backdoor, taking the steps up to the living space above the shop two at a time before letting myself into my library as well. I picked up the kid’s dossier, flipping through it briefly to double check its contents before sliding the freshly printed crime scene photos into the front and tucking the file under my arm to slip back out into the hall. I paused there for a moment, listening to the quiet, steady heartbeats coming from the room we'd given the boys, smiling briefly as I remembered their sleeping faces last night. Then I moved silently down the stairs. Michael looked up from supply order forms when I stepped into the shop.

“There’s cold coffee upstairs,” he began, but I shook my head as I slipped past him behind the counter. I pulled his address book from one of the packed shelves behind him, ignoring his frown as I thumbed through page after page of the coded script. “What’re you looking for?” He finally spoke up again when I set it and my file on the counter and leaned over them, brow furrowed in annoyance as the letters swam.

“Other shops that sell suicide root,” I trailed off into a low warning growl as he wrapped an arm around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. “She killed someone, Michael.” I looked up at him, resting my hand on the closed dossier almost unconsciously, “it was a kid,” my voice went quiet, “just a kid.” Michael studied me a moment before slipping the address book from beneath my fingers and scanning the coded information there.

“Here,” he spoke softly, pointing to a few names, “these three are the only other places in Washington County that sell Cicuta maculata.” He withdrew his hand as I copied down the addresses, glancing up briefly when Jesse walked in the front door, dressed like she was trying to mimic the dark clothes I usually wore while working.

“Thanks, Michael,” I darted into the back to retrieve my hunting duffle, the two of them following a moment later. “The police may come by,” I paused to shrug my shoulder holster on, “Finch was with them,” I double checked the iron rounds loaded in my .45 before tucking it into the holster and shrugging my leather jacket on over it, “I don’t know what story he fed them.”

“Don’t worry,” Michael flashed an easy smile as Jesse’s eyes darted back and forth between us, trying to commit it all to memory, “I know the drill.” I still worried, but the logical part of my brain reminded me that he was more than capable of taking care of both himself and the boys.

“We’ll probably be late,” I sheathed one of my mother’s old silver knives beside the iron one on my belt as Michael nodded.

“Try not to shoot any of them.” I slung the duffle over my shoulder with a harsh laugh.

“It’s loaded with iron rounds, I wouldn’t waste the ammo.” He exchanged a look of resignation with Jesse before breathing a heavy sigh and shaking his head, but still the hint of a smile played at his lips.

“Good hunting,” he spoke the words as I slipped out the back door with Jesse.

“What’s the file?” I tossed my duffle into the back and climbed into the driver seat, handing her the kid's dossier.

“The first victim in this batch,” I glanced over as she started to open it in curiosity, “unless you’re going for complete immersion in the role, nightmares and all, I wouldn’t look.” Jesse dropped the cover without looking and I pulled out of the alley in silence.

The first two shops were a bust, none of the staff recognized the Fae by either the police sketch or the security footage I’d pulled last night and I didn’t have high hopes for the last as I parked across the street and Jesse and I headed in. Inside smelled similar to Dogwood, there were no scents of gunpowder, death, raven, and fox, but similar. An electronic tone sounded when I opened the door and the shop owner looked up from behind his counter.

“How-” He stopped when he saw me, nervous gaze flickering briefly to confusion as Jesse stepped through behind me, muddy blues rippling around him as swallowed the lump in his throat. “How can I help you,” he spoke again, a little bit slower this time, “Lady Wildes.” I frowned slightly, it bothered me when people took the whole ‘Queen of the East’ thing a little too seriously.

“We’re looking for someone,” I pulled the folded pictures from an inside coat pocket and unfolded them on the counter, “she would’ve been in in the last couple days to buy Cicuta maculata.” The man frowned, adjusting his glasses to peer down at the images.

“It’s a shame, I hoped you were considering a change in sources, the whole community knows not to mess with your supplier.” I smirked at the disappointment in his tone.

“I think you’re mistaken,” I paused as he looked up, “Dogwood is my shop, Michael isn’t my supplier, he’s more like my assistant manager.” I watched the surprise fill his expression for a moment before I tapped on the pictures again to change the subject, “You see her?” The owner looked down at the pictures again, brow furrowed in thought.

“The last couple days, you said?” I nodded slightly so he continued, “I remember her; pretty little thing, bought some Spotted Cowbane just like you said.” I glanced at Jesse briefly in my surprise, “Quiet, but a nice enough young lady.” I breathed a sigh of relief at finally finding a place to start.

“She say anything about what she was going to do with it?” He frowned again, shaking his head slowly.

“No,” he paused, “she did mention something about visiting family, though.” I raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring the chill that ran down my spine at those words.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good evening,” I turned and hurried out the door, pausing just outside to wait for Jesse and pull my jacket’s hood up against the now pouring rain. She joined me as I fished the vial hair from my pocket.

“What’s that for?” I glanced up at her again and started to answer while keeping my thumb over the rune carved into the lid, but a sudden chill made me stop.

“Help me.” I turned to find the little boy standing in the street, Jesse’s eyes going wide when she saw him, too.

“That.” I answered her question under my breath before waving him over. He was pale and sickly, his hair and clothes soaked through and slicked to his small frame because that was how he’d died. I crouched down so that I was roughly eye level with him as he joined on the sidewalk. “I’m working on it, kid,” I spoke softly, “do you remember how you got here?” He shook his head, doe-eyed with a mix of fear and curiosity.

“Help me,” the boy spoke again, voice like a song despite the sound of running water beneath it.

“I’m going to find her, kid, I promise,” I flashed him a reassuring smile and watched him disappear, like he’d been washed away in the rain. I took a deep breath and straightened up, looking back at Jesse and the mix of fear and sorrow in her lilac eyes.

“That-” Her voice cracked so she stopped to swallow and try again, “That was a ghost, right?” She shivered slightly, hugging her jacket tighter around her.

“An echo, but yeah, that’s the nutshell version.” I led the way back to the Jeep, my phone ringing just as we climbed inside. I fished it from my pocket to check the ID as I closed the door against the rain. “Hey,” I answered when I saw the number for the shop, “I take it the cops came by?” Michael chuckled quietly on the other end of the line.

“They asked where I was last night about when that kid died.” I blinked in surprise.

“What’d you tell them?” I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“The truth,” I exhaled through my teeth as he continued, “I spent the night with my girlfriend,” I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers, “then they asked if it was possible for you to leave in the middle of the night.” I groaned, pressing my forehead against my steering wheel, ignoring Jesse’s questioning expression. “I told them no.”

“I really hate you,” I finally growled the words and Michael laughed on the other end of the line.

“If that were true, you would’ve killed me a long time ago.” I took a deep breath as I straightened up in my seat, shaking off the memory of blood and rain that accompanied the dull pain in some of my scars. “Anyway, the police left a few minutes ago, they’re looking for you, too.” I wasn’t too surprised considering my run in with them that morning.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I started up my Jeep, “we’re headed over to the kid’s house now. I’ll call if something happens.”

“Alright, good hunting.” I glanced over at Jesse again as I hung up and pulled out into the street.

I parked down the street from the kid’s house and climbed out with Jesse right behind me. We were crossing the street to reach the house when I stopped dead in my tracks, the scent of Fae hitting me like a brick wall.

“Reyna?” Jesse stopped a moment later, looking back at me in question.

“Fae.” I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent and trying to determine the direction it had gone. “It went this way.” I turned to follow the scent away from the house to the small park on the corner. The scent of blood hung in the air, but faint enough I could write it off as a few simple scrapes. The scent of Fae was stronger here, accompanied by the scent of magic; she’d opened a door. The creak of the park’s little metal merry-go-round drew my attention then as it began to turn by itself until the boy’s sickly ghost flickered into view again, riding it around and around.

“He’s back.” I glanced back at Jesse, her eyes glued to the boy. I remained silent, approaching the merry-go-round to get a better look. On the rail he gripped I found marks in the paint where his nails had bit in and scraped it off, matching what I’d found under his nails. I could almost see the Fae dragging the boy away from the merry-go-round and the park. I turned, slipping past Jesse and out into the street where the scent of Fae magic was strongest, confirming my earlier thought about a door being opened; I let slip a harsh laugh as I recognized the electric sensation that still rippled in the air. “What?” I reached out and pressed two fingers to Jesse’s forehead, wordlessly casting a spell to show her what I saw.

“She used a gate,” I gestured at the shimmering ripple, all that remained of the door, “she could’ve taken him anywhere.” I breathed a heavy sigh, pacing for a moment while Jesse looked around wide eyed and enamored by the colors and music I saw in the world on a daily basis. “I’m sorry, kid.” I muttered the words under my breath.

“So what now?” She finally broke the silence and I breathed an exhausted sigh.

“Chances are, she killed him on the other side.” I was quiet for a minute or two while I thought over what to do next, “There’s an old church aways away from here we’ll use to summon her.” I started back to the Jeep, ignoring the sound of old church bells in the back of my mind.

“Why not do that from the start?” I glanced back at Jesse with a sad smirk.

“‘Cause it requires a hell of a lot of power to summon Fae Folk, and I needed her signature.”

“What?”

“The door, every Fae has a unique magic when it comes to doors, like a signature, and I needed it to make sure I summon the right one.” I climbed back into my Jeep, “Come on.”

The old church was quiet and starting to fall apart, the paint was chipping and covered in layer after layer of graffiti. I parked the Jeep and grabbed my duffle from the back along with a few cans of spray paint. Jesse was just getting out while I stood in front of the wall shaking one of the cans. It took only a couple minutes to repaint my ouroboros, the Soul Collector’s mark, over the top of the other graffiti on the wall, I had enough practice after all.

“What’re you doing?” Jesse watched quietly as I finished it off.

“Oh, you know,” I smirked a little maniacally, “just marking my territory.” I slung the duffle back over my shoulder and stepped inside the old church doors, pausing for a moment to listen for anyone squatting. “No one here,” I dropped the duffle on the floor in front of the altar, “Come help me move these pews out of the way,” I called over to Jesse and she did as I asked. It took a while, but we cleared a large space in the center of the old church’s floor and I returned to my duffle for the cans of paint. “I’m going to draw a Fae trap; you can watch, but once I summon the Fae I recommend taking cover somewhere.” Jesse nodded slightly as I shook a can of paint and paced off about twenty feet of the room.

It took about half an hour and two and a half cans of spray paint to make a large Fae trap that would negate magic and act as a cage. I took a moment to roll my neck and stretch before standing outside the circle with my back to the altar.

“Ready Jesse?” She gave me a thumbs up after snapping a picture with her phone and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. She ducked behind the pews out of sight as I whispered a silent prayer of protection, ignoring the pain as it was burned into my forearm; I was so used to pain I barely even noticed it anymore. I paused, taking a deep breath before I slipped into an ancient Gaelic spell once used to summon Fae Folk in Ireland. The space above the trap rippled and the door appeared, forcing the Fae woman out before abandoning her to the trap.

“You human trash dare to summon me?” She spat the words and I laughed, unphased by her rage.

“I promise you, I am no human,” I flashed my sharp fox teeth in a wicked grin, “and I am very territorial.”

“Insolent filth!” She raised a hand to cast a spell, but nothing came of it. My grin widened until I probably looked more like the cheshire cat than myself as I pulled my knife and pistol.

“You’re insulting the person who literally holds your life in their hands.” She glanced down at the trap as I shook my head, “Not exactly a wise move.” She was seething, fury radiating from her like a blood red mist. Then she moved, producing a throwing knife seemingly from nowhere. I sidestepped the blade, a quiet chuckle escaping my lips as it stuck in the wall behind me. I leveled my pistol and fired, the iron round still burning through one of her shoulders despite her attempt to move. Her second blade came before I had time to react, the edge just nicking the side of my neck. “You’ve been around for centuries,” I spoke softly, the words almost like a song as I holstered my .45 and reached up to touch the wound, fingers coming away bloody. “hasn’t anyone ever warned you about drawing blood from a starving Owhi?” I crossed the line into the trap and laughed as the Fae took an unconscious step back. Another knife, almost in slow motion now that the taste of blood filled the air, but her rage had been replaced with cold, dark fear now. I flipped the iron hunting knife around in my hand and darted forward to drive the blade up through her jaw and into her skull. The light began to fade from her eyes and I smiled, punching my free hand into her chest to grip her barely beating heart. “Thank you for this meal.” I leaned close to whisper the words in her ear before stepping away, pulling both blade and heart free in one fluid motion. It didn’t take long to wolf the heart down and Jesse should’ve still been hiding anyway, but I was careful to keep my back to her all the same. “You can come out now, Jesse.” I called out to her as I crouched to wipe the blood off my knife on the dead Fae’s shirt. Jesse approached slowly as I straightened up again, as if hesitant to see what I looked like now, so I wiped the blood from my face with the hem of my shirt as I turned to her; she could handle the blood just fine, but she’d never seen me eat and I planned to keep it that way.

“I have a question.” She finally spoke up as I was writing a rune in the air that would burn the body without harming the old church.

“Shoot.” I sheathed my knife and retrieved my duffle as the fire sparked to life.

“Why did you make the Fae trap so big? Smaller would’ve made it easier to kill her, right?”

“Well, about a meter and a half is the smallest you can make one and still summon the door into it, but mostly,” I flashed her a wicked smile, “it’s more fun if they can fight back.” Jesse’s eyes widened in mild shock and I had to resist the urge to point out that I’ve always been at least that twisted.

“She could’ve killed you, Reyna!” Ah, that wasn’t the problem, apparently. I turned to pull one of the throwing knives from the wall and handed it to her before making my way to the door.

“Not with those knives, she couldn’t,” I unlocked the Jeep as she followed me, “those are steel with an iron edge, meant for Fae rather than anyone else, and not big enough to take off my head.” I tossed my duffle into the back and paused to stretch, forcing my more feral instincts down again while Jesse climbed into the passenger seat in a daze. I understood, but I couldn’t really relate to the sudden shock most rookies experience after their first hunt, not when my first kill was at the age of six.

Jesse had remained uncharacteristically quiet the entire drive back, lost in thought until I’d parked the Jeep in the driveway of her house in Lincoln. She seemed to finally come back to herself when I turned it off and climbed out.

“We’re…” Her voice was soft, “home?” She looked confused but followed me up to the front door anyway.

“You,” I paused to take her hand, “need some rest.” I drew a rune on her palm that would keep the nightmares at bay. “Come by Dogwood tomorrow with your Wechuga research.”

“Reyna, I’m fine-” I shook my head, keeping my mouth shut when I wanted to point out that she’d practically been a vegetable the entire ride here.

“No Jesse, you’re processing. Go inside.” I turned her around and pushed her towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned and climbed back into the Jeep with no room for argument.

I went home to Dogwood and then drove right past it. Something about the victim being a child about the same age as Kelly would’ve been by now made me keep going until I was pulling into my old space at the pub I used to frequent. I walked up to the bar and my old stool against the wall almost entirely on muscle memory, but I didn’t order a Scotch like I would’ve before. The bartender didn’t press when I asked for water instead of my “usual”, he’d learned a long time ago that pressing me never goes anywhere. With Kelly on my mind and a slight buzz thanks to the drunken haze coming off of the bar’s other patrons en masse, my thoughts drifted back to Jack and Jesse’s thinly veiled request that I get in touch. After downing my glass as if I were downing a glass of liquid courage, I pulled my phone from my pocket and started typing… or rambling really. Then I set the phone down again and spent a few hours staring at it like it might explode at any minute.

It didn’t vibrate.

In hindsight, I can’t really say I was surprised either considering the five hour time difference put it at about 04:30 there, which meant it was late even by his standards.

I finished off my last glass of water and paid the bartender before pocketing the phone and heading out the door.

It was dark when I let myself in the back door; I was honestly surprised to find Michael still awake, let alone sitting at the desk reading a book. He looked up at the sound of the door, taking a moment to look me up and down before setting his book aside.

“How’d it go?” I flashed a tired smile now that the last of the borrowed buzz was finally wearing off and moved to the lockers under the stairs.

“Neither of us got hurt and I got a free meal and some exercise, so I’d say pretty well.” I paused to unzip my duffle and return its contents to their places inside one of the lockers before sliding it into its cubby beside them. “I need a shower.” I muttered the words as I shrugged off my leather jacket and listened to Michael stride quietly across the room. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind as I hung my jacket on the hook beside the lockers.

“You smell like blood.” He murmured the words into my shoulder, looking down at the little bit of blood that was still damp enough to transfer from my tank top to his hand. I hummed quietly in response to his soft voice.

“I always smell like blood,” I flashed a bittersweet smile, “blood and death.” I glanced back at him before distancing myself, “So do you, you know, though it’s not as strong anymore.” I started up the stairs, “I’m going to take a shower and check on the boys.” Michael watched me go in silence.

My phone vibrated in my pocket as I stripped off my tank top and I stopped to read through the messages as they came in.

I looked up at my reflection in the mirror and the beast there, bloodlust in its eyes.

Then I set the phone down and started the shower.

Jesse came by the shop the next day, bringing with her a notebook full of everything she’d been able to find on the Wechuga just as I’d asked her to. It wasn’t much more than the basics, which is about what I’d expected, so I’d gone through my notes last night to double check that the pages in my hunting journal were still up to date and all inclusive.

“So this is what your journal looks like.” Jesse’s lilac eyes were filled with curiosity as she picked it up from the counter, skimming the pages on the Wechuga before flipping through the other pages. “This is so cool, can I take a copy of this for the props team?” I was quiet for a moment, hesitating before I breathed a sigh of defeat because the look in her eyes said there would be no arguing and it was unlikely anyone would look too closely anyway.

“Yeah, I guess.” I took the journal from her and slipped into the backroom, leaving the door open for her to follow me.

“So is that it?” Jesse spoke as I waited for the printer and I glanced up briefly to read her expression.

“With the Fae?” I paused to check the copied, “It should be, just about.” I held out the stack to her, “I’ll send the kid home and that will be that.” Jesse took the papers.

“Send him home?” I flashed a bittersweet smile.

“His spirit won’t move on if I’m still carrying a piece of him around.” I changed the subject, “Alright, I’ve got Council stuff to do as well, so just text me if you need anything else.” I rushed her out the door without an explanation because I’d been to far too many funerals in my life and those for children were always the worst.

I stood a few meters away from the kid’s family, watching the service behind a seal I’d drawn on my arm earlier to make onlookers gloss over me. Thunder boomed overhead and the rain picked up so I exhaled through my teeth and pulled my jacket’s hood up.

My eyes never left the coffin, it was uncomfortably small after all.

His family wept, the volatile mix of emotions coming off them in waves made muddy with grief as the coffin was lowered into the ground. The kid stood beside me, healthier now that he had no ‘unfinished business’.

“Is it normal to cry when someone dies?” I smiled gently at the boy, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair.

“If it’s someone you knew,” I paused, “saying goodbye can be very sad sometimes.” He looked up at me in curiosity.

“You’re not crying, miss.” I met his gaze after his mother, at last, was guided away. I was quiet for a moment before I crouched down to meet him eye to eye.

“Sometimes there are people in this world who forget how,” I paused to take a deep breath, “people who can’t remember for one reason or another.”

“Like you?” I forced a convincing smile.

“I was about your age when I lost my parents and forgot how to cry.” I straightened up and offered him my hand before walking up to the open grave with him. I took the vial of hair from my pocket and poured the contents out into the grave.

“Will I see you again?” I flashed him another broken smile, crouching in front of him again and reaching out to brush his hair from his face before resting a hand on both of his shoulders.

“Maybe one day.” I lied easily, knowing full well that he and I were going in opposite directions, “I’ll come say hi when I catch up, okay Ben?” He beamed at me and I almost felt bad for lying.

“Thank you for helping me, miss.”

“I’ll see you around, love.” I watched him fade and disappear, letting the smile slip away as I straightened up again to say a silent prayer and cross myself.

“Been a while since I ran into one of hers.” I looked back at the sound of a Liverpool accent.

“Been a while since I ran into someone who could see through rune magic.” The man chuckled, running his fingers through jet black hair bleached golden blonde in a gesture that almost seemed human despite his inhuman scent; he almost smelled heavenly when I stopped to think about it. He flashed a cocky grin, exhaling smoke around the cigarette in his mouth.

“I didn’t even notice it.” I could assume based on that alone that he wasn’t anything to pick a fight with.

“What do you want?” Still, I couldn’t help but be on my guard.

“I’m looking for someone,” he took a long drag on his cigarette, “an old… friend,” the way he said ‘friend’ made it sound awfully complicated, “of mine by the name of Alix McÁed.” I blinked in surprise, curiosity filling his blue-grey eyes at my recognition of the name. “Oh,” he leaned a little closer, studying me, “you actually remember her.” He did a lap around me, looking me over, “Interesting.” I growled my annoyance.

“Sorry, last I saw Alix was back in Scotland six or seven years ago.” I paused, “Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, if you know the place. Don’t know where she went after that.” The man breathed a sigh of what I assumed was annoyance.

“Pity.” I started to ask what he wanted with Alix in the first place, but he turned to walk away then, disappearing quickly in the early morning fog and leaving only the scent of cigarette smoke and death behind.