Why the hell did I have to piss off a vampire? As a fae, I couldn’t have picked someone worse to get on the wrong side of.
Vampires and fae have a complicated and bloody history. Our blood is like a drug to them, providing them both a rush of pleasure and a boost of power—so for years, they hunted my kind, nearly wiping us out as they drained us one by one. Things have supposedly improved in recent years, but I don’t really believe that. I know how fucking terrible vampires can be. I’ve seen it firsthand. So I don’t trust any vampire farther than I can throw them.
Especially not Donovan O’Shae, the vamp I stole the Aurora Gem from. He’s very well connected in the supernatural criminal underground of New York, and he’s got a reputation for being both ruthless and vicious.
My stomach clenches at that thought.If he catches me, will he kill me just like the vampires who murdered my parents? Will he drain me dry and tear me limb from limb just because he can?
Shaking my head to clear it of those awful memories, I refocus my attention on the contents of the safe. It holds a huge stack of money, probably for a rainy day, some velvet boxes that undoubtedly contain jewelry, some documents, what looks like a ledger of some kind, and a small wooden box with a symbol carved on it.
I recognize that symbol. It’s a basic warning sigil. It tells you that whatever’s inside is potentially dangerous, so be careful. It’s not a seal. Seals mean ‘don’t open this damn thing unless you want to get cursed.’ This is more like a ‘keep out of reach of children’ kind of thing.
Quickly, I pry open the box, and a breath of relief escapes me when I see the amulet nestled inside.
Fantastic.
I double check to make sure there’s no camera hidden inside the safe recording me, then hide the box in the pouch I’ve wrapped around my ribcage. It sits just below my breasts. My boobs are on the large side, and if I wear a push-up bra, then it makes just enough of a shelf that I can hide small objects just underneath and it doesn’t distort my shirt. You can’t tell there’s anything strapped to me.
Abeepsounds from down the hall, and my head snaps up at the sound.
Shit, that’s the alarm turning off. The man who lives here must be home early.
I grimace. At least I’ve already got the amulet, but now I’ve got to scramble to get the hell out of here before he catches me stealing from him. He couldn’t grab me if I phase out, but this job will get a whole lot more complicated if I’m seen.
I close the safe, then swing the painting back into place to cover it up. With a quick thought, I phase out, turning incorporeal as I hustle out of the office and dart back down the hall.
The owner strides toward the kitchen, tapping something out on his phone as he goes. I take advantage of his momentary distraction and slip past him, practically sprinting down the hall toward the front door.
I reach it before he has a chance to turn around and spot me, slipping right through the door and into the corridor outside.
Ahhh. Sweet freedom.
Now it’s time to get paid.
* * *
My fence is a half-goblin named Pat. That’s all I know about him, and it’s all that I need to know. The relationship between a fence and a thief is one based on trust, but ironically, we need to know as little as possible about each other in order to trust each other.
What if something happened to Pat, and he knew my face, my real name, my home address? He could turn me in. And vice versa. I have to be honest, good fences are hard to find, but I’m not so loyal to Pat that I wouldn’t turn him in if it would save my hide. The only person you can rely on is yourself, after all.
So to keep trusting each other, we have to know nothing about each other. I know he gets the goods where they need to go, and I fetch a good price for them, and he knows that I can acquire just about anything a client might want.
Pat’s shop is this little pawn place, the kind that has a sign that says “Cash for Gold” and other such tacky posters. There’s a mailbox on the wall to the right of the shop door. The shop’s got the classic wire grating that comes down at night, but I lift up the mailbox and push aside the fake wall panel to reveal the keypad underneath.
Punching in the code, I look up and down the street, just to make sure I haven’t been followed. It’s only paranoia if they’re not out to get you. And if you’re fae, then someone’s always out to get you.
Usually vampires.
With the code punched in, the grate opens upward, and the front door unlocks. I slip inside before the timer runs out and the whole thing locks and shuts down again.
The front of the shop where most customers hang out is dark, but there’s a light coming from the back room. Pat lives above the shop, or at least I think he does, but this back room is where most of his important dealings go on. It’s a messy office, and I’m pretty sure I saw a cockroach in there once, but as long as he gets the job done, it’s no matter to me if this place is a dump. After all, I’m not the one living in it.
I keep myself tense and ready to run, just in case. Pat’s a fence and generally you leave fences alone. They work for a lot of different clients, they’re everybody’s friend. But in our world you can never be too careful, and I’m always prepared for the day I slip in and interrupt an unpleasant interrogation.
When I reach the doorway to Pat’s office, I see that it’s just him, tallying up accounts.
“Heya.”
Pat sighs and squints up at me through his glasses. He’s smaller than I am, but he could probably kick my ass if he felt like it. He’s no slouch. “I wish you’d stop coming here at all hours. My sleep schedule’s bad enough already.”