Pyromantic Read online

  “Can weres even get tattoos?”

  “No. Our bodies reject the ink as foreign matter. I figured I’d tell Lock after he got his.”

  “Sneaky. I like it.” I straightened back up in my chair. “Why are you at the Inferno so much?”

  Sid flipped the knife and caught it in his other hand. “We’ve been working so well with Alistair, I think he decided that he didn’t want to mess up a good thing. He’s worked out some sort of deal with Les.”

  “You guys are Coterie now?” I couldn’t imagine the drove permanently handing themselves over to anyone. The drove, the were-hare’s answer to the werewolf pack, only had one boss, and that was Les.

  “No, we’re just doing some contract work.” He smirked at my obvious discomfort as my phone vibrated again. “Which you’d probably know if you ever looked at your texts.”

  Our food appeared, and I finally gave in and checked my phone, if only to get Sid to stop smirking at me. Damn smug bunny. The first was a text from Lock to see if I was on my way to Boston. The other two were from Ezra, who wanted to know if I was going to ever answer Lock or if perhaps my fingers were broken. As I was reading, Ezra sent me a selfie with the message Because I know you’re going through withdrawal. You can’t go cold turkey on this kind of hotness. I took a moment to admire Ezra Sagishi in all his glory because who wouldn’t? It’s not my bias toward him as a friend that makes me call him gorgeous. Where it concerns Ezra, beauty is not subjective. If my phone could speak, it would expound on Ezra’s amber-gold eyes and flawless tan skin. Sonnets would be written about his cheekbones, and I’m pretty sure you could pick another body part at random and find someone who’s written a dirty limerick about it. His features are a perfect meld of his Japanese and fox heritage, and if he smiles at you, you’re doomed. He is, in essence, a total knockout. I sent back an emoji of a smiling pile of poo, because someone has to keep his vanity, however well deserved, in check. Hopefully that would keep him off my back for a bit. I typed and deleted three responses to Lock before I settled on Yup. With my strong grasp of the English language and obvious wit, it was no wonder I was doing so well in my relationships. Stars and sparks, what a mess.

  Despite my focus, I still saw the waitress slip her phone number to Sid.

  “Was our waitress grateful for her knight in shining leather, then?”

  He took a bite of his pie before pointing the fork in my direction. “Ava, I am insulted. Do you really think me the type of man who would take advantage of such things?”

  “You did keep her number.”

  He stabbed at his pie again, an irritated twist to his features. “Yeah, well, I’m not. But I’m not going to throw away her number in front of her, either. There is a fine line between charming rogue and jackass, and I prefer to land on the side of the former.”

  “Okay, well, as soon as you’re done with your pie, we need to head out. Alistair will have kittens if we’re late. I’m still posing as his scariest weapon, so he can’t start without me. If you need to say good-bye to anyone, now is the time.” I couldn’t help my grin. “Just be quick. You know, like a bunny.”

  Sid didn’t talk to me again until we reached our destination. Totally worth it.

  2

  THE MORE THINGS CHANGE, THE MORE I HAVE TO REPLACE CLOTHING

  THE MAN WASN’T WHIMPERING, but he would be soon. He crouched on the floor, a line of bloody spit connecting him to the oh-so-white carpet Alistair hadn’t replaced yet. Sid hovered over him, fists at the ready to give the guy another good thump. I stood next to Alistair as he relaxed on his chair as if it were a throne. His face impassive, like he didn’t have a care in the world, a glass of whiskey dangling dangerously from his fingertips. The scene reminded me so much of Venus and Owen, her pet firebug, that I felt my stomach lurch. Standing next to Alistair didn’t make me Owen. I would never be that deranged or depraved. A small voice deep inside pointed out that I was already standing by watching someone get pummeled for crossing the Coterie. What made me really sick wasn’t what I was doing but that I agreed with Alistair on this one.

  Matias was a mid-level thug out of Philadelphia. He was some flavor of shifter, though I couldn’t remember what kind. He was part of a steady stream of idiots we’d caught trying to carve a piece of Boston for themselves. Alistair was still cementing his rule, and they saw that as a business opportunity. And while I didn’t agree with a lot of the Coterie’s business principles, I could see that Matias was dangerous. Selling drugs to humans was bad. Selling them to other creatures like us was dangerous beyond belief. Control and the ability to blend into humanity kept us safe. Matias endangered that safety, which meant he was endangering some people I held very dear. So I stood by and watched Sid get his hands dirty. Literally. His knuckles had split and bled and then healed, but the blood was still there, drying as I watched.

  Matias spit, leaving a bright red smear on the carpet. “I can give you a cut.”

  Alistair held up his glass, swirling the whiskey in the light while pretending to think about what Matias was offering. Alistair wouldn’t take more than a sip or two while this was going on. Like many things about him, the whiskey was a part of the image he wanted to present. He wouldn’t actually drink while he was busy. Losing any kind of control didn’t appeal to him. “I don’t think you understand the situation, Matias. Money is not the problem. You are.” The amber liquid in his glass caught the light as he brought it down and took a sip. “And I think perhaps you aren’t taking this seriously.”

  Matias spit again, this time aiming at Sid’s feet. “Your bunny can work me over all he wants. You think I’m a stranger to pain? That I can’t take anything he can dish out?”

  Alistair sighed, handing his glass off. To everyone in the room, it looked like the glass disappeared. In reality, he’d handed it to Bianca, who was hiding behind her veil.

  “The problem is, Matias, I don’t want to kill you.” He rested his chin in his hands, bored and immaculate, like the lazy god of Esquire magazine. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I don’t care enough to actually kill you. It’s a lot of work, you understand. Hiding bodies and all that—it’s a heck of a mess, and I’m not fond of mess. Ideally, you would just slime your way back to Philly, but then that leaves me with a problem. I have to convince you to leave in a way that doesn’t seem like weakness on my part and will sufficiently impress upon you what a mistake it would be to return. Unfortunately, you’re so stupid that a beating won’t work. Pain isn’t enough. You need nightmares.”

  Matias laughed. “You think your bunny is capable of that?”

  Sid’s mouth tightening was the only sign that Matias was getting to him. Knowing how touchy the drove could get with this kind of thing, I was strangely proud of his restraint.

  Alistair sat up. “Oh, most certainly, but I think you’re going to need something a little flashier.”

  I knew a cue when I heard one, so I stepped forward. Matias was really laughing now, spit spraying from his busted lip. I was close enough that I’m sure some got on my jeans. This is why I wear dark clothing to Coterie soirees. Matias relaxed, thinking Alistair was playing a joke.

  Now it was my turn to get my hands dirty. I started slow, sparks flowing from my fingers like a cascade of fireworks. By the time I stood over him, my arms were bathed in flames and his laughter had dried up. Orange flames turned to blue as I kicked the temperature up. Matias lurched backward a foot before he caught himself, the effect of his sneer ruined by the sheen of panic sweat on his brow.

  I crouched down so we were on the same level. “Forgive me, but I spaced out during the interrogation, and I can’t remember what you are. So before I get started, there’s something I need to know.”

  A fine tremor shook his body as he croaked out, “What?”

  Our noses almost touched as I leaned in. “Exactly how much damage can you heal?”

  *

  THE EVENING ended as many of our Coterie get-togethers ended, with me throwing up in a Coterie b
athroom. The door creaked open, and I turned my head to see a glass of water and a washcloth. Alistair handed me the glass and draped the damp washcloth over the back of my neck, the cold instantly making me feel a little bit better.

  “He’ll heal,” he said.

  The water soothed my scratchy throat as I drained half the glass. “I know.”

  He made an exasperated sound that I knew meant Then why all the fuss?

  I grabbed the washcloth and held it against my flushed face. “I’m not into torture.”

  Alistair leaned against the door of the private bathroom, his arms crossed. “You met him. He’s an idiot. It was this or death.”

  “Then why not kill him?” I asked. Venus would have slit his throat and then complained about the stains it left on her beautiful carpet.

  Alistair dropped his arms, his gaze softening. “Before I answer you, let me ask this—did you ever get sick after meetings with Venus?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “But not every time?” He asked the question but already seemed sure of the answer.

  I shook my head.

  He crouched down, easing himself to the floor, his face close to mine. “I think I know why. Because of the position I’ve put you in, you feel more responsible. With the structure Venus had, you didn’t feel as guilty. With her you didn’t feel like you had a choice. I’ve changed the dynamic. Let me guess—you’re starting to feel like you’re turning into Owen, and that both frightens and disgusts you, doesn’t it?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to—he could see it on my face.

  Alistair sighed. “Ava, you’re not Owen, and I know you won’t believe me, but I’ll say it anyway. I’m not Venus.” He rested his arms loosely on his knees. “I know exactly how she would have handled today—she would have slaughtered Matias in front of a select audience, who would have told everyone, thus reinforcing that she was not to be messed with.” Alistair always looked in control, cold and calculating, but as I watched he let that facade drop, and I realized how young my new boss was. I’d have been surprised if he was much past thirty. He rubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead, a weary and habitual-looking gesture. “Believe it or not, I’d rather not kill people if I don’t have to. I’m sorry you had to burn Matias.”

  “I can still smell singed hair.” My throat tightened. “I know he’s not screaming anymore, but I can still hear him.”

  For a second, I thought Alistair might reach out to comfort me, but he never moved. “Terrible, I know. But I can’t let some street thug come into my city and push his poisons. He would have no problem peddling drugs to Coterie kids. And if I can’t protect my people from threats like him, what’s the point?” Sounds of rushing water moved through the plumbing, breaking the quiet as we sat there. “He will heal his burns eventually. Then he will go home and tell everyone not to come here. He will wake up screaming for the rest of his life.”

  “So will I,” I said, turning my head slightly so we looked each other in the eye.

  “That’s the price we pay to keep our people safe.” He looked at me, not with pity but with understanding, which somehow made me feel worse.

  “I know,” I said, closing my eyes.

  “You agree with me,” he said, his voice hushed. “And that’s why you’re getting sick.”

  Again, I didn’t have to answer. Alistair’s clothes rustled as he stood up. “Rest until you’re ready to come out.” I heard him pause as he reached the door. “The difference, Ava, is that Venus hurt people because she wanted to. She might have dressed it up in different ways, but that’s what it boils down to. We’re not doing that. We have to be ruthless, yes, but it’s to protect the people who belong to us. As long as we’re doing that, we’re not going to be like them.”

  The faint scent of bleach wafted up from the toilet, and my stomach clenched. “And if we lose sight of that lofty goal? Lots of evil in this world happens because of some greater good, Alistair.”

  “Then we’d better not let that happen, Ava.” I heard the door rattle as he rested his hand on the knob. “Besides, I’ve already thought of that. If we start to act like our predecessors, Bianca has orders to murder us in our beds.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “And you’re sure that plan will work?”

  “I trust Bianca implicitly—with my life and with my death.” With that cheery thought, Alistair left me to gather myself in the empty bathroom.

  Once I’d calmed down, I scrutinized my reflection in the mirror behind the sink. Not so much to check my hair or anything like that. No, I needed to make sure I’d removed all evidence of Matias. Dried blood freckled my face. I used the washcloth to scrub it off. Just as I’d thought, you couldn’t see any blood on my clothes, but I still had a faint whiff of burning human flesh about me. There wasn’t much I could do about that. Sure, I could take a shower, but I’d have to put my clothes back on. I settled for washing my hands up to the elbows in citrus-smelling soap and then headed out in search of Sid.

  Normally I would have grabbed something to eat before I left, but I didn’t want to run into Lock or Ezra. They weren’t working restaurant shifts anymore—now they got their pay exclusively for Coterie work—but that didn’t mean they weren’t around.

  And because I have the worst luck ever, there they were, at a table with Sid and Bianca. Lock was seated next to Bianca, their chairs close and their shoulders touching. It was like they’d been friends forever. I felt a firm jab of jealousy before I crushed it. This was my fault, and I was just going to have to learn to take my lumps with a smile. Ezra and Sid were on the other side of the table, each one doing what he could to annoy the other. A stylish black cane rested against a fifth chair that sat empty at the end of the table. Ezra had stepped into a silver bear trap and was still healing from the ordeal. The trap had torn into skin and muscle and left him on crutches for weeks. Because of the high silver content, Ezra had healed slowly. Not quite as slowly as I would have if I’d stepped into a bear trap, but definitely not at his usual clip. Mostly he managed with a slight limp now, keeping the cane around for when he got tired. In a few more days, the limp would probably be gone.

  I took my seat at the head of the table, wishing I could disappear into the wood of my chair. Ezra nudged a plate in front of me—my favorite burger, served with roasted veggies instead of fries. The vegetables were Lock’s idea: I’d put money on it. Convinced that Ezra and I didn’t eat well enough, he did his best to make us healthy.

  The burger was still warm, which meant the boys ordered it knowing I’d be in the bathroom for a while. I don’t know why, but that thought more than anything else tonight made me want to break down sobbing. As I ate, I waited for Lock and Ez to start in on me for avoiding them. No one said a word. They all chatted and let me wrap myself up in their aimless conversation and laughter and didn’t give me any shit. It didn’t feel like shunning or an angry silence. What it did feel like was understanding and support, which made me more ashamed of my behavior than a shunning would have. I could be angry at a shunning, but I couldn’t be mad at this, which took away the only defense I had. I didn’t know what else to do, so I ate quietly. Once I was done, Sid excused himself from the table and pulled on his jacket so he could take me home. Only then did Ezra pull me into his arms. He stuck his nose behind my ear, loudly breathing me in, and I couldn’t help but smile. His nose was cold. Like a dog’s. Bianca nodded at me, knowing that all I expected of her at the best of times was a lack of animosity. Lock fiddled with his cloth napkin, only looking up at me at the last second. Everything we’d been leaving unsaid was in his face. I looked away first. I don’t think I’ve ever left their company so fast. If I’d been a cartoon, there would have been a little cloud of smoke where I’d been standing.

  When I was zipping up Ikka’s jacket, I felt something sticking out of the pocket. I pulled out a scrap of paper, rolled up and clutched tightly in a vine, a tiny purple flower blooming near the end. My fingers trembled as I unrolled it.
We miss you, little dumpling. Though unsigned, I knew the note was from Ezra. The flower, from Lock.

  Sid wordlessly handed me Ikka’s helmet, and I shoved the flower and note back into the jacket pocket. When I was properly suited up, I climbed onto the bike. I spent the first part of the ride crying, and Sid spent it pretending not to notice.

  3

  FIREBUGS AREN’T GOOD AT PLAYING IT COOL

  I MANAGED TWO GLORIOUS days to myself before I got another assignment from Alistair. I hung out with Sylvie and Cade, putting the bookstore together and pretending to be a normal person. We were going to reopen in a few days, a week ahead of schedule, because dwarves freaking rock.

  Early on the morning of the third day, my phone beeped, indicating that I had an e-mail. I wanted to ignore it. I just wanted to keep basking in the bookstore’s normality. But ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away, so I left Sylvie to finish cleaning the windows by herself as I opened the case file Alistair had sent. The more I read, the more my stomach began to feel like a leaden pit. Sid was on his way to pick me up, and we were headed to Portland. Alistair wasn’t going to wait for this problem to come to him.

  Elias Johnson, rogue werewolf, and Luke Baker, siren, had been making noise in our territory. In mythology, sirens were female. Though female sirens outnumber males five to one, males do exist. They just aren’t as popular, mythology-wise. My theory is that most sailors didn’t want to admit that they’d crashed their ship into a bunch of jagged rocks because pretty men had tempted them with their song. The reality is, it doesn’t matter if the siren is male or female—if they sing and you listen, you’re toast.

  Elias and Luke were hiding out in an old warehouse down by the water that was so derelict, it should have had a sign out front that said CREEPY BAD GUYS LIVE HERE. Surely there must be a cheerful-looking warehouse somewhere on this planet, but I have yet to see one. It’s like they propagate a universally seedy atmosphere.