Chapter Two
How many times in thepast week had I woken up with this exact feeling? Emptiness. Loneliness. A lump lodged so deep in my chest it felt like it would never be free.
With the sunlight slanting through my windows, and my stomach reminding me I hadn’t eaten in far too long, I braced myself to get out of bed.
Every single nerve ending in my body ached. The Captain had taken so much worse. It seemed rude to complain, considering I hadn’t had my teeth rearranged by a bullet.
I sat up slowly in the rumpled covers of my bed. Somehow, I’d kicked the top sheet off the bed onto the floor, but it was still tucked in under the mattress at the end. My ribs protested with each movement.
I should hate him—I wanted to hate him—but I couldn’t quite push myself all the way to loathing. Even after what he’d done, which to me was one of the worst things he could do. He knew how much I didn’t want other people in my mind. Especially when he was using his power to control me. It was an invasion of my basic human rights, my privacy. My will.
I tested my limbs with gentle twists and turns, stretching where I felt comfortable, and holding back where pain flared through me. The blood crust in my hair told me a shower should be my first priority.
It took me so long to wash everything that needed it, the water had chilled by the end of the shower. I was pretty sure I still had blood in my hair, but I couldn’t move in the correct ways to check everything.
I dressed economically in a T-shirt and leggings and left my wet hair hanging loose on my shoulders.
I crossed to my bedroom door and stopped with my hand on the knob.
The last time I’d woken up with similar circumstances, Fin had been rustling around my apartment. I let myself feel the tiniest little glimmer of hope that he would be here again. That when I stepped into my small kitchen, he would be standing tall over my too low stove, cooking bacon that was probably expired.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think he would actually be out there waiting for me, but I enjoyed the thought while it lasted.
I exited my bedroom and stepped into my empty living room area.
Did it feel emptier now, or was that just me?
With nothing else to do, I made some toast and coffee. One thing I’d learned when healing major wounds, especially with magical help, I needed to increase my calorie intake.
I was thankful all my food hadn’t gone bad since I’d been staying at Fin’s house, but I had to drink my coffee black since the milk looked suspicious.
I shoved the toast in my mouth and eyed the bowl of apples on my counter. I didn’t intend to leave my apartment today, so I’d have some of them later. When I sat down at my desk, it took me a moment to sort out my feelings.
When I’d left Fin’s house the last time, maybe some part of me thought I would be going back. This time, I couldn’t. It wasn’t just a matter of pride. He’d hurt me. Worse than anyone.
I ran my mental fingers over the bond Fin and I shared. It was no longer the gaping hole it was last night, as if when I healed, it had scarred over.
Somehow, I could still feel Fin on the other side. Did he hurt as much as I did? The vindictive part of me hoped so.
I faced my desk and dug for my laptop in the bottom drawer. Once I got it set up, and started the various updates loading, I went through some of my emails. Most of it was from former clients. A few invoices.
One of the emails was from Hawk, which I deleted.
While I wasn’t ready yet to return, working with my clients again would be much easier with the office’s backing. It wasn’t just about the physical space; it was the little details that made life as a bounty hunter easier. Things like interrogation cells. The last time I interrogated a subject successfully he broke so nicely.
Then there were the easy pickups. I didn’t have to sling anybody over my shoulder and carry them away. Pedestrians stared when that happened.
As much of an asshole as he was, I appreciated Hawk both as a supervisor, and as the chief's best friend. He’d been in my life almost as long as the chief himself. Once I was done hunting the Black Mage, I needed to clear the air between the chief and I. I couldn’t go back before that happened.
I needed to figure out how to mold my current environment to fit my client list. I’d never been dry for clients, so it wasn't as if I couldn’t find work when I needed it.
I bit my lip. If I was desperate, there was always the first paycheck from Fin’s employment I hadn’t cashed. That would cover me for the next few years. My laptop sputtered and beeped at me. I dug the charging cable out from somewhere under the desk, my ribs protesting every single movement as I plugged it in. Maybe that would be my first big purchase, a new laptop. I could certainly use it.
I remembered the pocket watch I’d stolen off Esteban, then smuggled out of Fin’s house. I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction, thinking about Fin and how angry he would be for my having taken it. To be fair, he probably didn’t even know about its existence.
I shuffled back to my bedroom and dug through the blankets to find the pocket watch, but came up with nothing. But it had to be here, somewhere. I skirted around the mattress, hunting until I spotted it underneath the edge of my bed frame.
With a groan, I bent down and snagged the watch. Standing upright actually hurt more than the bending. I took the watch back out to my desk and sat it on the scarred wood surface. The watch had a sort of antique bronze finish. The engraved cover over the face swung open with the push of a button to reveal a normal-looking watch.
Maybe I’d stolen the Black Mage’s family heirloom?
Not likely. The magic simmered and sizzled in my palm when I touched it. Initials were etched on the front of the watch, and some kind of language I didn’t recognize inscribed on the back.
No, this was no ordinary watch. I would bet my life on it.
I pushed the button again and again, opening the face of the watch to see if that did anything. The feel of the magic didn’t change. The surface or weight of the watch didn’t alter as I picked it up and hefted in my palm.
So how did it work? Could it be like my magical blades, which sang to the person who should own them? Did all magical objects call out to their owners?
I tried to connect to the watch again, using the same senses I did when I touched the bond between Fin and me. Of course, nothing happened. The watch sat there mocking me and my inability to make it bend to my will.
Maybe I should have gotten more magical instructions before burning all my magical bridges. A magic wielding person of any kind would suit.
Anyone except Fin.
Did I know anyone else with magic besides Fin and the Captain?
There had to be a way for people like me to learn magic. If anyone could find the way, I could. Hunting people was the one thing I excelled at. Hunting information came second since often I plucked it from their mouths while I beat the shit out of them. I doubted I could get help with my magic that way.
When the Captain came to me to help Fin, he’d directed me to focus my awareness. I tried that, but it proved fruitless on the watch.
I considered how I connected to my black steel blades. Thinking about them made my heart hurt. I’d left them at Fin’s in my haste to get away. Maybe the Captain would send them to me? They were the only thing I wanted out of that house.
I opened up the browser on my laptop, my wrists hovering over the watch. Quickly, I typed in ‘how to do magic’.
As usual, I should have thought that through. The first search results were related to pulling rabbits out of hats and making damsels disappear. Not a problem I currently faced.
I tapped the space bar a few times while I thought about what else to type. Then I typed in ‘fairy and mage magic’.
I hit enter harder than probably necessary. Maybe this was why my laptop didn’t like me.
The first results that popped up were related to fantasy novels. A lot of fantasy novels were written as a way for the humans who knew about magical creatures to process that fact, but I didn’t have a hundred years to read thousand-page novels to pick apart what was truth and what was fiction.
I cleared the search bar and considered what I needed to know a little more thoroughly. Then typed in ‘fairy and mage artifacts’ and hit enter.
Instead of searching through the link results, I hit the image button and scrolled through the images. A lot of them were related to swords and weapons. Most of them were also fictional or from movies. Again, nothing that would help me sort out the mystery of the stupid watch. I closed the laptop with a slam and sat back in the chair.
My ribs fucking hurt. I should start thinking about some kind of protection for them if I did any more fighting.
Allowing myself a moment of weakness, I went back into the kitchen and dug through my junk drawer to find a bottle of aspirin. It was expired, but anything right now was better than nothing.
I grabbed a bottle of water for my refrigerator, tossed back four of the pills, and washed the chalky taste down my throat.
I took the water and sat back at my desk. The watch gleamed in the morning sunlight, and the fact that it sat there, doing absolutely nothing, pissed me off.
No, that wasn’t right. It was the pain. I should’ve stolen the hospital grade painkillers from Fin’s house before I left. Maybe I could bribe the Captain to bring me some of them too? Or one of the IVs the medical staff kept locked up that contained the good drugs. In a pinch, I could do a field IV if necessary.
Something I should have done for the Captain while he lay bleeding out in the helicopter. Surely there’d been one in the first aid kit?
But in the heat of the moment, I’d floundered on the medical training the Chief had drilled into me over the years. Always basic stuff, but the basics could keep a wounded person stable until more experienced hands could take over.
I turned the watch over in my palm and studied the inscription on the back. The language was all looping swirls and symbols. Nothing I recognized, even from my fiction reading experience.
Another idea popped in my head. I dug into the top drawer of my desk and took out a small toolkit. It contained a tiny eyeglasses screwdriver that I never seemed to throw away despite the fact that I didn’t wear glasses.
I eyed the small screws on the back of the watch, each one perfectly spaced and blended seamlessly with antique bronze. The tip of the screwdriver fit into the cross hatches of the screws. I carefully applied pressure and gave it a little twist.
A jolt flashed through me. I jerked my hand away. The damn thing had shocked me. My fingertips throbbed and ached, the pain radiated up to my wrist.
If this damn thing didn’t hold a clue about the Black Mage or his magic and how to bring him down, I would throw it out my window and gleefully laugh as cars rolled over the stupid thing.
I tossed the screwdriver back into the toolkit and the entire packet back into my desk. It landed with a thump amidst other junk and debris.
With a sigh, I open my laptop again. The web browser still sat front and center, so I tapped the space bar while I considered what else I could search for.
Another idea occurred to me. Pain might make me grumpy, but it was also motivating.
I typed in ‘watch repair shops’ and clicked on the local search function. This time I hit enter slightly more gently.
A neat list of jewelry stores popped up. Most of them specialized in watch repair or battery replacement. I scanned through the list, hunting for one that could repair antique watches. A more specialized skill. When I landed on a name I recognized, I smiled. Abraham. He was an old client who’d hired me to hunt down an employee who stole from him. It was a successful job, and the man gave me a large tip. He might be a good place to start.
It wasn’t an amazing lead, but I’d gone on less before. When I had nothing, the tiniest glimmers of hope get me to the next moment, until each of those moments could be strung together to support the threads of my life.